Em and Aaron
by Dr Alice
Summary: A sequel to "Aftermath," this series picks up the thread on Martha and Aaron's first wedding anniversary. It's more a family saga sort of thing and the only characters from "24" likely to appear are Aaron Pierce, Martha Logan Pierce and Mike Novick.
1. Chapter 1

"I've had my eye on the Brooks property for a while, Em," Bill confided. "I think it's just what you're looking for. It has a barn and good pasture for horses, but it isn't too big, and the house is in good shape. The Brookses are moving to New Mexico to live with their daughter and they need to sell." He grunted as the pickup hit a rut in the road and they bounced. "Sorry about that. You guys should get a four-wheeler once you move here, it'll come in real handy. Where was I?"

"How many acres is it, Bill?"

"Twenty, I think. They've sold some of their land to their neighbors but they still have a fair piece left."

"Sounds good," Aaron commented. "How much are they asking?"

"A hundred thousand or so, maybe a little more."

Aaron and Martha traded glances; Martha shrugged. "That sounds good to us, Bill, if you think it's a fair price."

"I do," Bill said judiciously. "The land is good quality, and as I said, the house is in fine condition."

Aaron and Martha had decided to celebrate their first anniversary by visiting the family and putting their retirement dreams into motion. They had spent a week helping Jennifer get packed and settled into design college in Houston and had now returned to the Pierce ranch to see what properties in the area might be available for purchase. Aaron was delighted to be home, and Martha was glad to take a break for a few days; she had received a generous advance for her book and had been pushing herself hard to complete the first draft. She mentally contrasted Aaron's current attire of jeans, work shirt and boots with his usual blue suit and smiled to herself: Her husband was always more relaxed when he was away from Washington. Not for the first time, she began to calculate if it would be possible for them to move back to Texas sooner than they had originally planned. Aaron's pension and health benefits factored largely in this decision, as he would not qualify for full retirement benefits for another three years. As Bill turned into the driveway of the Brooks ranch, she gave up the question for the moment.

"What are the Brookses like?" she asked Bill.

Bill hesitated. "They're okay. Decent people, but not the friendliest you'll find around here. Mrs. Brooks is – well, she's kind of a gossip."

Aaron chuckled. "That's what Mother said. I got the impression she and Mrs. Brooks aren't the best of friends."

"They're not. Mother generally knows what's going on around town, but she's not one for loose talk. She gets on Barbara's case sometimes about it," he added, with a sidelong grin at Martha.

Martha laughed in agreement. Her sister-in-law had a gift for hearing any news that happened to be circulating, which she found helpful rather than annoying. Barbara's store of information about the local townspeople had been an aid in the daunting task of getting to know and remember the Pierces' neighbors, many of who were curious to meet her. To her credit Barbara never minded being a focus of attention in her turn, as had been the case now that she had begun dating again. Martha's reverie ended as the truck came to a stop near the ranch house; Aaron helped her out of the car and they headed to the front door, which opened as they approached.

"Innis! Get in here! The Pierces are here, they want to see the house." Rosa Brooks was an older woman, thin and alert. Her voice and demeanor could best be described as commanding; Aaron thought of a drill sergeant and then shoved the comparison away. Her husband was a tired-looking man who bore the marks of chronic illness, but was still active enough to walk briskly into the room at his wife's call.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said, looking curiously at Aaron and Martha. "So, young Bill, this is your family?"

"You know my brother Aaron, and this is his wife Martha. Martha, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks." Martha thought Bill looked slightly abashed at being called "young Bill," but did not have time to do more than register this as Innis Brooks took a step forward and held out his hand.

"You're the lady we've all been hearing about," he said with a broad smile. "You think you might be interested in buying our ranch?"

"We're thinking about coming back here to live," Martha explained, blushing. "Bill says your property might be just what we've been looking for." At this Innis stood slightly taller, while a barely audible snort came from Rosa.

"Well, now. I'm going to get ready to take you around the property, but I'll let my wife show you the house. She can tell you all about the kitchen and such, anything you want to know. Rosa, I'll go find my hat and get my boots on." Innis hastened out of the living room, leaving his spouse eyeing the Pierces.

"Let's see. House has three bedrooms, two baths, I imagine you'll want to see those. And the kitchen, of course." Mrs. Brooks exhibited the bedrooms and accompanying bathrooms conscientiously, but it was clear that her enthusiasm lay with the kitchen, a large space full of natural light.

"This is the canning cupboard." Their guide opened a small door, revealing a closet fitted with shelves. Peering inside Martha saw a few rows of quart and pint Mason jars, neatly labeled with their contents, but many of the shelves stood empty. The lowest shelf contained a pressure canner, racks and other equipment. "I used to can a lot. But with Innis's health getting worse, our garden is a lot smaller than it used to be. My daughter doesn't grow much where she is – I'm probably going to have to leave all this here when we move." She turned to Martha. "Do you can?"

"Well, no. I've really never tried. I remember helping my mother make jam once or twice as a girl, but that was it. I'd be glad to learn, though," she hastily offered, hoping this would raise her in the older woman's estimation. "And I'm sure we'll have a garden when we move here."

Rosa Brooks raised an eyebrow skeptically, but nodded. "I might do that then. Looks like Innis is ready to take you around the property," she added, glancing out the window. "Let me know if you have any questions about the house."

Mr. Brooks ushered Martha, Aaron and Bill into his weathered truck and they set off along a dirt track leading away from the house. The drive through the property was beautiful, revealing gently rolling land studded with trees. At one point the four-wheeler splashed through a stream running through a wide, low valley. It clearly had been used for farming crops at one time but was currently lying fallow and empty except for sheep grazing here and there.

"We've cut back the last few years, sold some of the property off. Bill might have told you that. We kept the best of the land, though. The fencing is in good condition…" Innis had tossed out information from time to time during their tour, but now he slowed the truck and sat back with a sigh. "We'll be sorry to move, but running the ranch has gotten to be more than we can handle. This is good land, but you need to put work into it and I just can't put in the hours that I used to. I'd be glad to see someone take over who could work it the way it needs." He shot a questioning look at them.

"I grew up working ranch land, Mr. Brooks," answered Aaron. "Bill and I both did, as you know. I'm out of practice, but Bill can help me with the fine points and Martha's been putting in a fair amount of time researching this move, too. She's good at the financial side of things." He shot his wife an affectionate look.

"Well, then." Innis brightened perceptibly. "That sounds great. I'd hate to sell the place to somebody who wouldn't know what to do with it. Let's get back to the barn, I think that's the only thing I haven't shown you."

Though she didn't want to admit it to Aaron, the tour of the Brooks ranch left Martha mildly shaken. On the drive home Bill and Aaron provided most of the conversation, with Bill excitedly brainstorming ideas for the use of the property; thinking of the responsibility they were about to undertake, Martha felt much less enthusiastic. The life the Brookses led was the complete opposite of her experience on the Logan ranch, which had been run with a full staff at all times. Martha had interested herself in the ranch operations and done some work with the horses, but compared to the full-time job of running a ranch without help, she realized now that she had only been dabbling. Her thoughts were disjointed: _Do I have to learn canning? What are we going to do with all this land? What do sheep eat, anyway?_

On their return Martha walked into the kitchen to find her mother-in-law at the kitchen table cleaning green beans. "Let me help you," she offered, pulling out a chair. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes until Gertrude, noting Martha's slumped posture, opened the conversation.

"How did your tour of the ranch go?"

"Fine. It looks like exactly what we want," Martha answered, trying to work some cheerfulness into her voice. Gertrude nodded but said nothing further; Martha sensed the same understanding quality about her that Aaron had and began to relax.

"Mrs. Brooks offered me her canning equipment. She says she isn't going to be able to take it with her to New Mexico."

"That was kind of her," Gertrude observed. "She's always been sort of the local expert, she'd win prizes at all the fairs around here with her jams and such."

Martha groaned. "Gertrude, I've never canned in my life. If I tried it I'd probably give Aaron botulism." They both started to laugh. "I had no idea how much was involved in running a ranch when it's just the two of you. It's going to be a lot of work. That probably sounds naïve; I knew we'd have to work and I've spent enough time with Bill that I thought I knew what would be involved – but it's so much more. Gardening, canning… fences…" She spread her hands. "Just so many things."

"When I married Bill Pierce and we moved to the ranch from town, that's when it hit me." Gertrude glanced at her arthritic hands and put the beans down with a sigh. "I'm not as fast at this as I used to be." She watched Martha sweep the bean strings into a neat pile. "It _is_ hard work, Martha, and I remember being overwhelmed at the beginning. But you do get used to it. You develop a system, a routine, just as you do with anything else. Once you get the routine down, it's easier than you think. And you don't do everything every day, other than the chores. You don't weed the garden every day, you do the ranch accounts once a week or once a month. And you and Aaron can start slow. You don't have to start running a full-time ranch right away."

Martha's face brightened as this sank in. "I guess what I'm really worried about is letting Aaron down. Mrs. Brooks thought I was some city slicker type who didn't know what I was doing – and she's right," she added hastily as Gertrude looked appalled. "Probably everyone around here feels the same way."

"Well, if they do, they'd better not say so in front of me, that's all. And Martha, if you really didn't know what you were doing, you wouldn't have all these questions, would you? Any sensible person would feel the same way." Gertrude stood up and took the colander of beans to the sink.

"Gertrude, if Mrs. Brooks does give me that canning equipment, do you think you could teach me to use it?" Martha asked hesitantly.

Her mother-in-law looked delighted, if slightly surprised. "Of course. Ann and I can both teach you. And I promise you won't give Aaron botulism," she added with a laugh, as Martha hugged her.

Lying in bed later that night, Aaron reached over to take Martha's hand.

"What did you think today? About the ranch?"

"I think it's a beautiful place, Aaron. And it's near your family. It's everything we've been looking for." She moved closer to him and put her head on his chest. "I talked to your mother about it today. Mr. and Mrs. Brooks made me realize how much work is involved in running a ranch."

Aaron laughed. "I know. It's going to be busy. But Martha, we can hire help if we need to. And this doesn't have to be a large-scale operation. We don't have kids to put through college or anything like that to save for. I don't want you breaking your back with work."

"I asked your mother if she could teach me to can."

Aaron stared at her for a moment and then hugged her tightly. "Oh, Martha… honey. Did Mrs. Brooks get to you that much?"

"I realized today how much I don't know. I know horses, a bit, and Bill's been wonderful about teaching me finances, the vet bills and the cost of feed. All that. But what exactly are we going to do? Grow crops? Raise sheep?"

"We've got lots of time to think about it. Bill knows some people who might keep an eye on the place for us after the Brookses move. And we can lease the land for grazing while we research what we want to do. There is no hurry, Martha. We can plan this." He kissed her.

Relieved, Martha smiled back at him, took his face in her hands and kissed him back. "Happy first anniversary," she whispered.

"Well, Gertrude, looks like your son is going to be buying our ranch." At the church meal distribution program, Rosa Brooks was fitting bags of food into cardboard boxes as Gertrude Pierce labeled them for delivery.

"It certainly sounds like it. Aaron went to see it on Bill's recommendation and he and Martha were both happy with it. They surely appreciated the tour you gave them, very neighborly." If there was a slight tinge of sarcasm in Gertrude's voice, her facial expression was as placid as usual.

"That daughter-in-law of yours – I offered her my canning equipment. She didn't seem to know what to do with it."

"She probably doesn't. Not everybody does, especially in the city. There's no point spending the time and money to can unless you're growing the stuff, Rosa. You know that."

"Must be difficult, adjusting to having somebody like her in the family."

"Somebody like her?" Gertrude's tone was now noticeably cooler.

"Famous. Not used to our ways. And – well, she's unstable."

"Rosa Brooks, you don't know what you're talking about."

"She was in one of those places, Gertrude. An institution. Everybody knows it; she hasn't made any secret of it."

"Of course she hasn't made a secret of it. She had no reason to. Everybody goes through trouble in their lives, and she's had more than her share. Besides, you talked to her, you met her. Did she strike you as unstable?"

"I – well, no. I can't say that she did," Rosa admitted. "I'm sure I hope you're right, Gertrude. If she's happy and the family's happy, well, that's all to the good."

"She's a very brave woman, and she and Aaron are very much in love. I'm proud to have her in the family."

Looking slightly ashamed, Rosa said nothing further.

Martha called over to Aaron from her seat at the computer: "Jennifer seems to be having a lot of fun at school. She says her teachers are fantastic and she's already gotten some great project ideas." Opening her next email, her eyes widened. "Nathan wants to come to Washington for a visit!"

"He does?" Aaron walked over to study the screen.

"He says he's getting leave in about three weeks and he wanted to make sure we'd have room for him."

"Of course we do. Don't we?" He smiled at Martha.

"We absolutely do. It'll be wonderful to have him here." Martha looked back at the email, scrolled down and noticed a postscript:

P.S. Em, don't tell Dad this yet but I've just about decided to leave the Navy. I need to talk to both of you about what I should do next. N.


	2. Chapter 2

Surrounded by the clamor of airport travelers claiming their luggage and families greeting each other, Martha and Aaron stood side by side anxiously awaiting Nathan's arrival. Martha knew how much Aaron was looking forward to his son's visit; it would be almost the first time since his divorce that they had been able to spend more than a few days together. Nathan had matured during his time in the Navy, and Aaron was eager to get to know his adult son better. After their marriage, Aaron had confided to Martha that the night Adams had tried to kill him the two things he'd feared the most were that she would be left defenseless and that he would never see Nathan again. Martha hoped Nathan's vacation would give the three of them a chance to grow closer.

At last they saw a flash of red hair: "Dad!" Nathan waved to his father and stepmother as he exited the baggage claim area. He dropped his duffel bag and hugged first his father, then Martha. "Em, it's great to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Nathan." Martha smiled at her stepson, noting that he looked tired, though he seemed as cheerful as usual. "Did you have a good flight?"

"I had a _long_ flight, but it was fine. The plane was packed, but we left on time, so I can't complain. It's really good of you to come and pick me up." Nathan hefted his duffel bag. "Where to?"

"The car is this way." Aaron indicated the corridor leading to the airport parking complex. "We'll get you home first, give you a chance to unpack and shower if you want. Then we thought we'd take you out to dinner."

Nathan was happy to avail himself of the chance to shower and change out of his uniform. Emerging from the guest room, he declared it "fantastic" and requested a tour of the entire apartment. "This is really nice, Em," he observed. "Right in the middle of the city and everything."

"Angie helped me find it. When I first moved here I had a smaller place downstairs, but your dad and I moved into this apartment about a month before we got married."

Nathan eyed the security camera and multiple locks on the doors. "You haven't had any more problems? Nobody else trying to break in?"

"No, thank God. Before my Secret Service protection ended we got the security cameras put up, extra locks on the doors, and your father bought me a gun and taught me how to use it. We took every precaution possible. But nothing else has happened." Martha stifled the urge to knock wood.

"Well, that's great, Em. I'm glad to hear it." Nathan looked relieved, but noting the shadow that had fallen over Martha's face, he quickly changed the subject. "You mentioned dinner; well, they didn't feed us on the plane. Any chance we can grab something now?"

"Of course. What do you feel like eating?" Aaron queried.

Nate's face lit up. "Steak!"

Having devoured the first half of his steak and a chunk of baked potato, Nathan leaned back with a sigh of contentment and looked inquiringly at his father. "So how's everything been going?"

"Going great," Aaron commented, smiling at his wife. "Nothing exciting, we've just been settling in and establishing a routine."

"Getting used to normal life," Martha commented dryly. After returning from their honeymoon she had made a promise to herself to kick the cigarette habit permanently and to focus on tapering and stopping her psychiatric medication. It had been difficult at first, but as months went by without any further threats to their safety she was able to relax. With Aaron's support and with the goal of finishing the book to sustain her, she had successfully quit smoking, decreased her alcohol intake and stopped her medication; she had also intensively reviewed their financial situation and drawn up a new plan for their retirement savings. None of this was exciting enough to talk about with Nathan, but it had kept her busy and given her more reason to look forward to the future than she had ever had before.

Returning to the present, she suddenly realized that Aaron was still chatting with Nathan: "Work is fine, Em's book is nearly finished. And what about you? You've been busy?"

"Very busy. Nothing really exciting or different though." Nathan shifted uneasily, and Martha was reminded of the postscript he had sent her with his last email. She quickly jumped into the conversation: "Did your dad tell you we spent our anniversary shopping for a ranch?"

"No! I knew you were going home for a visit, but I didn't know about the ranch part. Did you find one?"

'We did. It's the Brooks ranch – a really beautiful place, twenty acres and it's about half an hour from your Uncle Bill's."

Nathan grinned and shook his head. "You guys buying a ranch. I can't wait to see it. When I go out to visit Mom I'll be sure to stop by and take a look."

"Your Uncle Bill can take you out there if you ask him."

"That sounds great. How's Grandma doing?" The conversation shifted away to other topics and Martha leaned back with satisfaction, watching Nathan demolish the rest of his steak.

The following morning as Aaron was getting ready for work Martha poured herself a second cup of coffee and sat down facing Nathan.

"I got the impression last night that you didn't want to talk," she said quietly.

"I didn't." Nathan sighed. "I didn't want to ruin my visit right off the bat by dumping all my problems on you and Dad."

"Problems? Are things serious, Nathan?"

"No. Well, I mean it _is_ fairly serious, but I'm not in trouble or anything." Nate stared into his coffee cup for a moment.

"You mentioned you've decided to leave the Navy. Are you getting tired of it?" Unnoticed by either of them Aaron had begun to walk into the kitchen, but stopped and leaned against the doorframe, listening. As Nathan continued to talk, a slight frown appeared on his face.

"Really tired of it. Nothing's changed, nothing's gone wrong, I'm just in a rut. I haven't done anything new in over a year, and I don't want to still be doing this when I turn thirty."

Aaron moved the rest of the way into the kitchen, causing Martha and Nathan to glance up in surprise; pulling out a chair, he sat down next to his son. "Wasn't your captain talking about transferring you to a different ship, Nate? Giving you some different responsibilities?"

"He was, but it didn't happen, and it looks like it isn't going to." Nathan glanced apprehensively at Martha for a moment and then looked back at his father. "That's part of the reason I'm here. I've decided it's time for me to leave the Navy. The hard part is trying to figure out what I want to do next."

Aaron nodded. "When is your term up?"

"About four months."

"Have you given any more thought to joining the Service? We did talk about that once or twice."

"Yes." Nathan hesitated for a moment and then said firmly, "It's not for me, Dad. I don't want to work for the government any more. I'd really like to work for myself if I could, start some sort of business, but I haven't been able to come up with any definite ideas."

There was a pause as Aaron thought this over and then, somewhat to Martha's relief, nodded calmly. "Well, why don't you sit down and brainstorm a few business ideas while you're here? This is the perfect time for us to talk about it."

Nathan looked stunned, but pleased. "Really? You're not disappointed?"

"Disappointed? No, Nathan. I'm proud of you. You've done well in the Navy, but that doesn't mean you have to stay there the rest of your life. You've picked up skills that will serve you well no matter what you decide to do. And I don't want you going into the Service if that isn't what you really want. Life's too short not to enjoy it," he added, glancing at his wife. "If you think you need a change of career, you probably do. Whatever you decide on, I know you'll do well."

Nathan relaxed. "That's great, Dad. I really wasn't sure what you'd think, I thought you might be upset when I told you. Em? Did you do this to him?" he added with a smile.

Martha squeezed her husband's hand. "I can't take the credit. Can I, Aaron? I think we both see things a little differently after everything we've been through. I still remember your father saying to me the day after the attacks that he'd changed his mind about you following him into the Service. He was considering quitting at that point himself."

"But Em got me to change my mind, and she was right," Aaron added. "I look at the Service differently now, Nate. I believe it's still the right job for me, but that doesn't make it right for you. I don't want you to make any career choices out of a sense of obligation, or for you to worry about what I'll think."

"You're not worried about me turning into a slacker, then?" his son quipped.

Aaron hugged him and got up from the table. "You're no slacker, Nathan. You've got energy, initiative, curiosity – the more I think about it, the more I think you'd do really well running your own business." He leaned over to kiss Martha and added, "I wish I could talk to you a little longer, but I've got a meeting this morning and I've got to run. I'll see you both tonight."

When Martha returned to the kitchen after saying goodbye to Aaron, Nathan was still sitting at the table, overcome. "Em, he never used to be like this. He was never rigid or unfair, but it could be tough to talk to him sometimes. He'd decided what I should do with my life, what I would be best at, and it was hard to explain that I didn't agree with him. It used to drive Mom crazy; he'd do it to her too."

"His perspective has changed, Nathan. Our first year together he was nearly killed more than once, and as I said, you see things differently after something like that happens." She looked at her stepson. "You are so important to him, and he is so proud of you. I know he wants things to be different now. Besides," she added with a smile, "you've grown up. He's not going to try to tell you what to do now that you're an adult."

Nathan looked moved, but tried to smile in return. "Well, I wish I felt like a grownup. Mostly what I feel right now is confused."

"Join the club," Martha retorted as the doorbell rang. "Oh, that's Angie. She'll be thrilled to see you, Nathan!"

Angie greeted her courtesy nephew warmly, chatting with him while Martha laid out a stack of papers and index cards covered with scribbled notes on the kitchen table. When Nate explained his plans to leave the Navy and hunt for another job, Angie heartily agreed with his decision and quickly wrote down a few telephone numbers for him.

"I know some people who've left the Pentagon and set up on their own," she explained. "A lot of them are contracted as suppliers to the Army now, they sell equipment or provide services. That may not be what you want to do, but it's a start and it'll give you a chance to see what's out there. Do you know anybody who's working in the Naval Department right now?"

"I might. I'm going to get online and see if I can get in touch with anybody I know who might be able to give me some pointers."

"You can use the computer in the den, Nathan," Martha offered. "Help yourself."

"Thanks, Em." Nate gave her a quick hug, poured a final cup of coffee and left the room as Martha turned back reluctantly to the pile of paper on the table.

"All right, Martha, the index," Angie said patiently. "You know we agreed you'd work on that today."

Martha put her head in her hands and groaned. "This is the worst part of the entire book. It's excruciating."

"It is also important," Angie replied firmly. "Let's get to it."

"Okay, okay."

When they broke for lunch a few hours later Nathan reported that he had managed to track down a friend of his at the Pentagon who had transferred to the Navy Office of Small Business Programs. "I'll give him a call after lunch," he commented, flipping through the notes spread halfway across the table. "This is some project, Em. What gave you the idea to write a book?"

"It started when we were on our honeymoon. Just an idea that popped into my head one afternoon, and when I talked to Aaron about it he thought it was a great idea. I guess you could call it a cross between a biography and a self-help book. Anyway, I wrote a proposal, it sold and I've been working on it ever since."

"Has Dad seen it yet?"

"Not yet. I wanted to wait and have him read the final draft. He'll get a better impression of the whole thing that way. I have go to New York to meet with the publisher later this week; you can come along if you'd like."

"That sounds like fun. While you're in the meeting I can walk around town. I haven't been to New York in a while."

By the end of the afternoon Nathan had spoken with his friend in the Pentagon and they had agreed to meet for lunch the following day; he had also left messages for Angie's Army contacts. In good spirits, he volunteered to fix dinner, an offer Martha was happy to accept. "I'll be seeing the alphabet in my sleep tonight," she muttered, cleaning off the table. "Do you cook much, Nate?"

"I don't get much of a chance to when we're at sea. But I do like to mess around in the kitchen." Nathan was exploring the pantry and refrigerator, stacking rice, garlic powder and canned tomatoes next to a pound of frozen ground beef. Martha watched with curiosity as she set the table: "What's this going to be?" she finally asked.

"Aunt Barbara's Mess. That's what she calls it," he added hastily. "She makes it all the time for her kids, and we had it once for dinner when I was visiting. I liked it so much I made her give me the recipe."

Martha laughed. "I can't wait to try it. Will salad go with it? I can make one."

Nathan's concoction turned out to be delicious, and the three of them lingered at the table after dinner, reluctant to leave. _This is a family dinner,_ Martha thought suddenly. _I'm part of a family._ She felt happiness spread slowly through her and smiled at Aaron across the table.

"I've got to figure out how to get to the Pentagon tomorrow." Nathan sighed and pushed his chair back from the table.

"It's easy, Nathan. The Metro stops right at the Pentagon and the nearest Metro station to us is just a couple of blocks away. There's a map online." Nathan nodded and headed back to the den to pull up the map.

"What did _you_ do today?" Aaron asked as they cleared the table.

"The dreaded index." Martha made a face. "It's nearly done, really. I asked Nate if he wanted to go to New York with me on Friday and he does. We'll probably be back late, so I can leave a printout of the book for you to look over if you want."

The rest of the week sped by, Nathan busily networking at the Pentagon and taking notes for future job ideas and Martha making last-minute adjustments to her book. Aaron had made arrangements to take a few days off work and he was happy to tour Washington with his son, Martha frequently joining them for lunch. Early Friday morning, laptop in hand, Martha left with Nathan to catch an early train for New York; Angie had elected to stay home, as the weather had taken a turn for the worse and she was fighting a cold.

With his father's politeness, Nathan ushered Martha off the train and flagged down a cab for the crosstown ride to her publisher's office. Once they were safe inside, he asked, "Do you want to meet for lunch, Em, or are you going to be having a working lunch?"

"I'm pretty sure this is going to be a working lunch. My editor said she wants to do an 'intensive' review of the book; this is probably going to take all day. Do you have your cell phone, Nathan?" she added anxiously.

"Absolutely. Don't worry about me. As far as I'm concerned, I've got the day on leave and I'm going to enjoy it. I have a list of places I'd like to see and I'm going to do a little shopping, maybe get Mom something."

"That sounds great." Martha smiled. "I hate to bring you here and then abandon you."

"You didn't! I'm excited that I get to go with you and I get to see New York." Nathan kissed her cheek. "Call me when you know what time you'll be done, okay?"

"Okay." Martha beamed at him and headed inside; Nathan checked his list and headed for the nearest subway station.

Aaron spent a half-day at the office catching up on paperwork and then left for home, telling Agent Mitchell where he could be reached. As head agent he had privileges to work from home fairly frequently but rarely availed himself of this opportunity, believing it was more important for the staff to see him in the office; this week, however, was different. He had wanted to spend as much time with Nathan as possible, and although he had not admitted it to Martha he was very glad to have the opportunity to read her book for the first time without her as an audience. Aaron knew Charles would figure largely in the book – there was no way for that not to be the case – and although since his death they had both come to terms with his presence in their pasts, that did not mean he was happy about having to re-experience this part of Martha's life.

He settled back in his reading chair and picked up the manuscript. At more than three hundred pages long it was so thick that he had first decided to skim quickly through it, but soon he found himself admiring his wife's writing style and engrossed in the details of her early life, especially in Martha's descriptions of her mother, whom he had never had the chance to meet. She had died several months after the Keeler/Logan election. Martha's father, he knew, had died when she was ten and she had only limited memories of him; it was her mother who had raised her. Not for the first time, Aaron found himself thinking of his own son's childhood and regretting that he had not spent more time with Nathan – but there had always been another Presidential activity he had to work or another urgent meeting to attend. Thinking again of his son's decision not to go into the Service, he had to agree that Nathan had made the right choice.

Reading on, Aaron braced himself as Charles entered Martha's life for the first time as a charming, well-connected and successful businessman. _Where did that man go wrong,_ Aaron thought, mentally shaking his head; _he had it all and he lost it. Or maybe he never really understood what he had._ A few pages further he found himself sitting bolt upright, staring at the page.

"Oh no," he muttered under his breath, and then "Oh my God. Martha." Tossing the manuscript aside, he sat staring straight ahead of him for a few moments and then reached for his phone.

"Hello?" answered a hoarse voice.

"Angie, it's me. I don't mean to bother you, but Martha gave me her final draft and I've been reading it today. I have to ask you something. Is this true?"

Tired but happy, Nate and Martha were speeding home on the train. Martha was happy to approve of his purchases for his aunts, for his mother, and as it turned out for herself. With a flourish Nathan presented her with a beautiful crystal paperweight "to hold all those index cards down, Em. You've got to keep them under control or they'll multiply and take over the desk."

"Where did you go for lunch?" she asked him.

"This really great pizza place I remembered from my last trip to New York. It's still there."

"Do you love pizza as much as your father does? When we go off the diet wagon, it's always pizza he has to have."

"I guess I do. It's hard to find really good pizza in our part of Texas. You may have to learn to make it, Em."

"Right after I learn to can," she answered dryly. "Did I tell you about Mrs. Brooks being a champion canner and wanting to give me her equipment?"

The rest of their trip went quickly, with Nathan and Martha laughing and swapping anecdotes about Aaron. "I'm glad we're home," Martha sighed as they entered the apartment building.

"Me, too. I'm beat. Do you think Dad's had dinner yet?"

"No idea, but I bet we can fix something quick for ourselves if he has." Their conversation ended abruptly as they walked into the apartment and caught sight of Aaron. Although Aaron's expression was neutral, it was clear to both of them that he was very upset.

"Aaron, what's wrong?"

"Martha, can I please talk to you for a minute? Nathan, we won't be long," he added to his son. "I just – this is important."

Speechless, Nathan nodded and watched his father close the door to the den. He took his packages to the guest room and then sat down on the bed, half listening for angry voices and wondering what to do next.


	3. Chapter 3

Martha felt a familiar sensation of panic rising in her chest. Wondering what could have upset Aaron to this extent, she immediately began to fear that the conspirators who had nearly ruined her life a few years ago had returned to threaten her again. _At least it isn't Whitcomb this time,_ she thought, and felt her heartbeat accelerate at the memory of her kidnapping. Carefully putting her laptop down on the couch, she gathered her courage and turned to face her husband. "Aaron, what is it? Bad news?" she asked worriedly.

Aaron shook his head sharply, as though to clear it. "Not the kind of bad news you're thinking. But it's plenty bad enough. I couldn't believe –" he stopped for a moment, visibly trying to calm himself, and started over. "You gave me your manuscript to read today." He waited for her nod and continued: "That's how I found out what happened with your first pregnancy. Is it true? Charles asked you to get an abortion?"

Martha sighed and rubbed her hand across her eyes. "He didn't ask. He insisted. Yes, it's true and it was one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made."

"I remember you telling me you miscarried twice. You never said anything about this." Aaron's expression did not relax despite seeing the strain on his wife's face.

"I didn't tell you, no. I haven't told anyone in more than twenty years."

"That explains why Angie didn't know," Aaron muttered, almost to himself.

"_Angie?_ You asked Angie whether I'd had an abortion? For God's sake, Aaron!"

"I couldn't wait, Martha –" seeing the anger on his wife's face, Aaron realized he'd made a tactical error. "I knew you were in conference, I didn't want to interrupt you, and I knew Angie had been working with you on the book. I assumed she would know. But she didn't."

Martha gave an exasperated sigh. "No, she didn't. At least not till you spilled it. She's been working on the index, the table of contents, keeping me on schedule… that sort of thing. She actually asked me not to discuss anything I wrote with her because she had no editorial training and she didn't want to influence me."

"All right. You had an abortion, you didn't tell anyone, you did it because Charles insisted. What happened?" Martha glared at him defiantly, and Aaron softened his tone. "I'm sorry I jumped on you. I wish you had told me, but I can see why you didn't. I just want to understand. Please explain it to me, Martha."

Martha walked to the window and stared out at the city lights for a few moments, a troubled expression on her face. "The truth is when I got pregnant for the first time Charles couldn't handle it. He went ballistic, threatened to leave me –"

"Why? You were married by then, Martha. What sort of husband forces his wife to get an abortion? Was your pregnancy just an inconvenience for him? Didn't he think of you at all?"

"He did promise me children later on. Emotionally he simply couldn't face it." Seeing Aaron's anger and confusion, Martha knew she would have to explain further: "He was abused, Aaron, that's the truth of it. His father was a retired military man, probably an alcoholic – although he'd quit drinking by the time I met him. He was a very angry and frustrated man. I never liked him. I don't think he knew how to deal with children; he sent Charles and George off to boarding school as soon as he possibly could. If they didn't get good grades, if they didn't do well in sports and act like responsible leaders, the way he wanted them to be, he'd beat them."

She paused, looking thoughtfully at the past for a moment, then continued. "You met George at the funeral. I know you didn't understand why I was willing to take charge of things after Charles died. It's because I knew George wouldn't be capable of handling it. He got the worst of the abuse, I think, more than Charles, and he just withdrew from life. His wife runs his life, makes all the decisions and he's perfectly happy with that as long as he's left alone. I wasn't really surprised that he never came to visit Charles in prison; I was grateful that he made it to the funeral. He's always avoided anything unpleasant as much as he possibly could. So when Charles finally broke down and told me what his father had done to him, it all made sense. With what I knew of his family by then I knew he was telling the truth. He pleaded with me, he kept telling me that he just needed more time…" her shoulders slumped. "So I did what he asked. I thought I was saving my marriage," she gave Aaron a dry smile. "And I told myself we could always have another baby."

"What happened with your next pregnancy?" Aaron asked quietly.

"He didn't object. After the abortion I was terribly depressed; that was my first bad bout with… you know." She shrugged. "I didn't go on medication but I struggled with it for months. Charles saw what I was going through, I think he was sorry for what he'd done, and he made no objections when I got pregnant the second time."

"'Made no objections,'" Aaron repeated. "That doesn't sound like he was very enthusiastic about it."

"I don't think he was, but it was much better than the first time. When I lost the baby he was supportive, but he wasn't especially upset himself."

"And then you never got pregnant again?"

"No." Martha sighed. "I don't know why not… but these things happen. I was in my late thirties by then. I tried to talk to him about going to the doctor, getting tested, even adopting – but he wasn't really interested."

Aaron frowned for a moment, as though he were thinking something over; catching Martha's puzzled look, he made an effort to switch topics by asking, "What did your mother think about this?"

Suddenly Martha lost her composure. "I never told her, Aaron. I couldn't tell her…" her face crumpled and she broke down, sobbing. "I never told my mother what I'd done."

"Martha!" Realizing he'd pushed too far, Aaron took her in his arms and stroked her hair in an attempt to calm her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered, stricken with guilt.

She clung to him. "I know I should have told you, Aaron, but I'd been calling it a miscarriage for so long I was actually starting to believe it. Besides," she looked down, "you've seen me at my worst. Drunk, popping pills… to me that's more shaming than anything in the book. When I knew you loved me, I promised myself I'd stop. I never wanted you to see me like that again." Overcome by the memory, she buried her face in his shoulder.

"You have no reason to be ashamed, and you know that," Aaron told her softly. "You're strong, brave, and you have a loving heart. Martha, you're a much better person than I am."

"_Me?_" Her astonishment was obvious.

"Yes, you. Considering everything Charles did to you, you've forgiven him in a way I never could. I saw that in every word of yours I read today. Incidentally, you're a wonderful writer. I couldn't put the book down."

She gave him a halfhearted smile, but it was clear that she had something more to tell him. "Aaron, I wish we could…" she took a deep breath, brushed away her lingering tears and added, "I've thought about having children with you. So many times. It breaks my heart that it's never going to happen."

"I think about it too," he confessed. "But Martha, we have so much. Every day I'm grateful just to be alive, let alone being married to you. Did you ever think you'd be this happy?"

"No, I never did. Life is wonderful, Aaron, it's better than it's ever been. But I see you with Nathan, and I think about my mother, and I just wish I'd had a chance to experience that. I guess nobody gets everything they want," she added, trying to compose herself.

"You will get your chance to be a parent. I saw Nathan open up to you, Martha. He wouldn't have done that with Diane, or me either. And Jennifer adores you, you know that. Being a biological parent doesn't really matter. And think of all the chances you'll get to be with Bill's and Barbara's kids. Watching them grow up, helping them figure out what they want to do with their lives… like I said, you'll get plenty of chances."

Martha beamed with pleasure and hugged her husband tightly. Wanting more than anything to comfort and reassure her, Aaron gave her a gentle kiss. Martha responded passionately, grateful beyond words that he had understood. Their recent conflict added emotional fuel to the fire, and by the time Martha remembered her stepson's presence Aaron had unbuttoned her blouse and they were nearly to the couch. Making an effort at self-control, she pulled away and gasped, "Nathan! I forgot all about him!"

Aaron groaned in frustration. Tugging her clothing back into place, she giggled and added, "I know he's starving, Aaron, we came straight back on the train and we haven't had dinner. Have you?"

"No, I haven't," he admitted. "Besides, he's probably worried about us. Let's go convince him we aren't about to get a divorce." He took her hand and they left the den in search of Nathan, eventually finding him in the kitchen where he was contemplating a carton of eggs.

"There isn't much in the fridge, Em, but I thought we could try omelets," he said tentatively. The worried look on his face made it clear that the question of dinner was not his main concern.

"Nathan, you're an angel. Omelets sound perfect," Martha responded, hugging him.

"Everything okay, Em? Dad?" Nathan didn't sound completely reassured.

Martha gave a deep sigh. "I think we should tell him, Aaron. When the book is published everyone's going to know anyway." Seeing Aaron's nod of agreement, she launched into an explanation of her decision to terminate her first pregnancy. By this time dinner was ready and the three of them sat down, Martha glancing between the faces of the two worried men as they ate.

Nathan's first comment was characteristically practical: "Em, there's going to be a lot of publicity about this, and it isn't going to be much fun. I completely understand what happened, but abortion is an issue that gets people really emotional. Are you sure you want to leave that chapter in the book? Did your editor talk to you about this?"

"Yes." Martha hesitated for a moment and then began speaking slowly. The pauses between her sentences made it clear she was thinking out loud. "Let me explain how I started writing the book. While I was working on the outline I realized I was going to have to talk about parts of my life that are painful to remember, or that I'm not proud of. So I broke it into stages. I started out writing the easiest parts and then working on the other issues one at a time. The abortion – I didn't mean to put it into the book when I started. I was writing it for therapy mostly. I had almost managed to convince myself that it never happened, and hiding things from yourself never works. It just doesn't." She smiled at Aaron, who was watching her protectively. "I spent a lot of time talking to my psychiatrist about it, and she agreed that writing it all down would be a good idea. She said that even if I put the chapter into the shredder when I was done it wouldn't matter, that writing about it would give me a chance to think things through, and she was right."

She took a bite of her dinner. "But the more I wrote, the more I realized that it was an important decision, a point in my life where things started to go wrong. I kept working on it and working on it. Finally I showed it to my editor during one of our meetings and she loved it. She knew it would be controversial, and she didn't press me to include the chapter, but she felt it could be a key part of the book. At that point after all my work on it I knew she was right. So I left it in. To me it isn't as much about abortion as much as it is about the danger of letting other people make decisions for you."

"I see that, Em. I know Dad does too. But the first time you have some hostile interviewer firing questions at you, or you start getting hate mail—"

"I've been through that. I wasn't the most popular First Lady in the history of this country by a long shot. Your dad was there during some of those interviews." She gave Aaron a sad smile. "And the truth is I didn't handle them very well. But there were a lot of reasons for that. I'm a lot stronger now than I was then, and when you're defending something that matters to you, it's different."

Late that night Aaron blinked sleepily up at the ceiling, feeling Martha's warmth against him: They'd enjoyed their reconciliation immensely once they'd finally had a chance to go to bed. He could tell from her steady breathing that she was already asleep. He closed his eyes and relaxed his body, letting himself start to slide into unconsciousness.

Suddenly a disquieting thought popped into his mind, the same one that had occurred to him during their argument earlier: _why had Martha never gotten pregnant again?_ He opened his eyes and frowned, thinking this over. Though not impossible, it seemed unusual that a woman who'd successfully gotten pregnant twice would have had so much difficulty achieving a third pregnancy.

Could it be that Charles had gotten a vasectomy? Aaron winced at the thought, not wanting to think further ill of the man without any evidence. He could not deny, however, that it made sense. It was possible that Charles, unable to face fatherhood yet not wanting to disappoint Martha – or maybe simply unwilling to face the debate that would have ensued if he had raised the issue – had undergone surgery without telling his wife. _There's no way to know,_ he thought, resolving never to tell Martha of his suspicion. There was no point in speculating about something that could never be answered.

He closed his eyes again, smiling as he visualized a dream family of blond and redheaded children – the children he and Martha might have had. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought he saw a young Nathan among them.


	4. Chapter 4

Nathan had planned his leave so that he could visit both his parents, and his last few days in Washington passed quickly. With Angie's help, Marie arranged a private tour of the Smithsonian for Nathan, Martha and Aaron as a farewell present. At the end of the tour Nathan turned to Martha: "You know, Em," he remarked, "Grandma would really get a kick out of all this." He gestured back to the exhibit they had just left. "She loves American history."

Martha looked stricken. "Nathan, you're right. I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner. I'm sure Gertrude would love a chance to visit and spend some time with your dad."

Her stepson gave her a friendly hug. "Invite her, Em. I bet she'll say yes." 

After Nathan left for Texas Martha doubled her focus on the final details of the book: correcting the index, reviewing proofs and – most stressful of all – discussing her upcoming publicity tour with her publisher's marketing department. An anxious phone call to her editor netted her the information that the publishing house was counting on her book to help them turn a profit for the year. Although she was not looking forward to the ordeal ahead of her, Martha understood that if the book were to be successful she would have to step back into the public eye. To her growing concern, however, she soon realized that her publisher was organizing an aggressive publicity blitz well beyond what she had expected. The idea of shilling her book to the public made Martha uncomfortable, but the generous advance her publisher had given her made it difficult for her to do anything other than cooperate. For a panicked moment she wondered if it were possible to pretend she had never written a book, but then remembered that she had been mentioning it in interviews for nearly a year. She reminded herself that with any luck the book would guarantee her and Aaron a comfortable retirement and tried to relax.

After a week or so of worrying about plane flights and interviews, Martha found herself lying awake one night listening to the rain outside. She shivered, moved closer to Aaron and put her arm across his waist. Yielding to temptation and hoping she would not wake him, she pressed her lips to the back of his neck; he was deeply asleep and did not move. He'd had a busy week preparing for another round of Service recruitment meetings, and they had not been able to spend as much time together lately as either of them wished. With a pang she thought of both their busy schedules; in two months she would be leaving on what she had begun to think of sarcastically as "The World's Longest Book Tour." Martha suddenly realized that she and Aaron had not been separated for any length of time since her speaking tour just before they had gotten engaged. That had been a difficult experience for both of them, and she knew that this trip would be even more stressful. She gave an impatient sigh and turned over on her back, wishing that she could forget everything weighing on her mind long enough to fall asleep.

Having always been an insomniac, Martha constantly fought a battle against the temptation of using sleeping pills. As a result she frequently found herself staring at the ceiling during the night hours, but she found lying awake next to Aaron oddly relaxing. Watching him sleep made her feel protective, and his presence calmed her. She sadly remembered the nights she'd spent lying next to Charles, rigid and wracked with anxiety, while he slept oblivious next to her. Although she'd longed to wake him for comfort, she had been afraid to disturb him. Now she knew that she could always wake Aaron – and she had, during some of her worst times – but that was in the past. Instead she tried to spend her time productively, and she'd spent many night hours revising the book in her head or furtively scribbling ideas on a pad of paper she kept on the night table.

Her thoughts drifted idly back to her husband. Martha had converted Aaron to the concept of spending mornings in bed; once an unheard-of luxury to him, it was now one of his favorite things to do. She smiled as she remembered the day early in their courtship when she had first persuaded him to spend half the morning "in the sack," as he called it. He'd been mildly shocked at the idea but, of course, they had enjoyed themselves tremendously, and she had enjoyed spoiling him and bringing him coffee in bed even more. Though their schedules had become busier than they had anticipated, she and Aaron still made it a point to turn off the phone and "sleep in" at least once a month. Smiling to herself at the memory of those mornings, Martha realized that she was getting drowsy again and, thankfully, dozed off.

On his arrival at the El Paso airport, Nathan found not only his mother waiting for him as he'd expected but also her paramour, Artie DeWitt. Nathan had met DeWitt the year before when he had come home for the wedding and had not been particularly impressed with him. A tall, good-looking man, he ducked his head at Nathan and returned to standing somewhat uneasily in the background. 

"Hi, Mom–" was all Nate was able to say before Diane flung her arms around him joyously.

"Oh, _honey!_ It's so good to see you! Did you have a good time with your dad?" 

"Great. It was fun, but I've been dying to get back home." Nathan's diplomacy was rewarded with a delighted smile from Diane.

"You remember Artie, don't you? Art honey…" Diane shot her escort a look that clearly said _get over here._ The two men shook hands as DeWitt offered, "Good to see you, Nate. We're glad you're here."

"How's Grandma?" Nathan asked, searching for a safe topic.

"Oh, she's just fine. She's still volunteering, I took her to the doctor the other day…" Diane continued chatting on this and other neutral subjects, but as they drew nearer to Ambler Grove she began to look slightly anxious. As they drove into town she cleared her throat and said, "Artie and I are living together now, Nathan. He moved in with me about six months ago."

"Oh." Nathan wasn't sure what he was expected to say. When his father and Martha had begun living together he had not objected in the least, but then he had liked Martha quite a bit better than he liked DeWitt. Besides, Aaron and Martha had been engaged by then; in contrast, he saw no ring on his mother's hand. "That's wonderful. Congratulations," he added as enthusiastically as he could. If he and Artie were going to be spending time together for a week, he told himself, it was imperative that he play the good guest.

Diane beamed in response and even Artie seemed to relax a bit. "Here we are!" he announced cheerfully as they turned into the driveway. "Honey, if you want to show Nathan his room I'll get the groceries put away."

"We went by Wal-Mart before we came to pick you up," Diane explained hastily as Artie began hoisting laundry detergent, chicken broth and other domestic items out of the back of the car. Nathan suddenly felt a pang of envy. _They have a home. They have a life together,_ he thought. _And so do Dad and Em. I'm the only one who doesn't._ Somewhat shaken by this realization he brushed this thought aside and, trying not to feel sorry for himself, hoisted his bag out of the car and followed his mother upstairs.

Diane threw the door open with a flourish; Nathan was touched to see not the poorly furnished guest room he had expected but a cozy bedroom containing the furniture he'd had growing up. His letter jacket from high school was hanging in a corner. "We got it all fixed up for you, honey. Do you think it'll be okay?" she asked anxiously.

"It's fantastic, Mom. You kept all this stuff for me? I can't believe it!" Nathan hugged his mother and looked around the room again. "It didn't look anything like this last year. You must have done a ton of work."

"I'd been meaning to fix this room up for ages, but I kept putting it off. When you let me know you were coming, that was just the push I needed. Besides, Artie helped."

"Are you happy, Mom? With Artie?" Nathan moved the bedroom's only chair into a comfortable sitting position, seating himself on the bed. As he had hoped, Diane accepted the gesture and sat down, leaning forward.

"I am, Nathan. I've made a few mistakes in my life, as you know" – she grinned ruefully – "but this isn't one of them. Art's very good to me, we get along great and we've been talking about getting married. I've even got a job on the base now, thanks to him. I finally have the life I want."

The envy Nathan had felt earlier bubbled up again. "What if you don't know what you want?" he muttered.

Diane looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I've got something to tell you. I've decided to leave the Navy. My time's up in three months and I'm not going to re-up again. I've had enough."

His mother's face lit up instantly. "Do you mean it? _Nathan!_ Oh, honey…" her joy died down as she took in her son's troubled look. "You don't sound that happy about it."

"The easy part was deciding it was time to leave. Now I have to figure out what I'm going to do. With my life," he explained. "I have no idea what kind of job I want, where I'm going to live…"

"You're going to live here," Diane declared flatly.

"Am I? What's the job market like in Ambler Grove these days? You don't want me stocking shelves in the supermarket, do you?"

"The base is always hiring."

"No, thanks, Mom. I don't want a military job. I did some interviewing in Washington –"

Diane stiffened. "Oh, so that's where you're going to live?"

"No, I'm not, Mom. Calm down. Aunt Angie was really helpful, and I'm glad I went on those interviews, but I didn't see anything I wanted."

"Did your father talk about the Secret Service at all?" Diane asked more mildly.

"Yes, but I don't want to work for the Service, either. And he was okay with that." Nathan stared at his hands. "All those companies in Washington, they're civilian but they're run by ex-military guys. Their job is supplying services to the armed forces, which is fine, but it's not what I want. For one thing if they lose their contract with the Navy, or whoever, they're out of business. What I'd really like is to go into business for myself. I'm tired of working for somebody else."

"Doing what?"

"No idea." Nathan shrugged. "I wish I did. I guess I should've thought this out better, but I've been on active duty for months. I've been so busy I just haven't had the time to do any research."

"Nathan, take your time. This is a big change for you." Diane was wearing what Nathan called her Executive Look. "Of course you haven't had a chance to think about what you want, and if you're planning to go into business for yourself you've got to do your homework first." Her son nodded in agreement. "I think there are business opportunities here for you, you just have to look around. The ranches are all doing okay, people are buying houses… they've got money to spend. The town is doing well. And even if it wasn't, El Paso is not that far away. When you get out of the Navy, come back. You can stay with us as long as you want. We'd love to have you."

Nathan laughed and shook his head. "Mom, come on. You've got Art, you're not really going to want me hanging around like a third wheel. I wouldn't stay with Dad and Em either for the same reason. They've got their own thing going on. It's really nice of you to offer, and I appreciate it but I can't move in here."

Diane's eyes filled with tears. "I was hoping to see more of you, honey. I'd love to have you come home."

"Well, and I might. I'm not saying I won't come back to town, and you'll see plenty of me if I do." He kissed his mother's cheek. "I'm just saying I need my own place. I've got plenty of money saved up and maybe I could hire myself out to Uncle Bill for a bit while I'm looking around. Say, did you hear that Dad and Em are buying a ranch someplace around here?"

"The Brooks place. Your grandmother told me." Diane shrugged. "I don't know what your father thinks he's going to do with it."

"I don't think they know either," Nathan agreed. "But Uncle Bill was all for it, at least that's what Em told me. He's gonna help them figure out how to run it." 

Both Art and Diane had to work the next day, which gave Nathan the day to himself. As soon as they had left the house he made a quick phone call to Emerson's Auto Yard. Frank Emerson Senior, the town's biggest car salesman, had loaned Nathan one of his vintage cars for the Pierces' wedding; Frank Jr. had inherited his father's hobby of collecting cars and was happy to supply his old friend with transportation. "It's a junker, Nate," he cautioned. "The truck runs fine but it don't really look that great."

Nathan snorted. "You think that bothers me? I'm only going to be using it for errands and to go out to the ranch. Where do I meet you? Your dad's car lot?"

"Yeah, that's the best place. See you in an hour."

The truck's radio was stuck on one station – country, of course. As he turned onto the road leading to his uncle's ranch, Nathan felt his spirits rise and started to laugh. _Look at me,_ he thought. _From cleancut Navy guy to country good ol' boy in less than a day._ Ambler Grove was much more laid-back than Washington and Nathan was savoring his reprieve from uniforms and regulations. His parents had moved to Washington when he was quite young, and although he had been looking forward to visiting his relatives he had not expected to feel quite this much at home. For the first time he began seriously considering his mother's suggestion to return after his discharge from the Navy.

His reception at the ranch did nothing to change his mind: "Nate! Boy, it's good to see you!" Bill embraced his nephew enthusiastically, talking all the while. "Can you stay for lunch? How long are you gonna be in town?"

Nate laughed. "Yes, I can stay for lunch, and I'll be here about a week." He just had time to greet Ann and Gertrude before Bill swept him off to the barn to finish the chores before lunch. Nathan was happy to go along as he now had a real interest in what went into operating the ranch. He was familiar with day-to-day chores such as feeding the horses and basic maintenance, but now he wandered around the barn eyeing the supplies his uncle kept neatly stacked and wondering if he could possibly find a paying job nearby. When the horses were fed and watered Bill waved him back to the ranch office, actually a glorified horse stall. It contained a desk and telephone and not much else; the walls were lined with bookshelves stocked with breeders' manuals and feed catalogs.

Nate sat back and inhaled the smell of hay and horses as his uncle made a quick phone call to the veterinarian, then passed him a can of soda from the office refrigerator. Nathan was just wondering how he could casually ask about local ranching jobs when Bill, who had been eyeing him shrewdly, saved him the trouble:

"You look like you've got something on your mind, Nate. Maybe I should tell you Em gave me a call the other day."

Nathan stiffened. "About me?"

"Yes. Now don't get your back up. She said you'd had a talk, and that you'd been looking around in Washington for a job, but she just had a feeling that you hadn't found what you were looking for. She wanted me to talk to you." 

Nathan relaxed and nodded. "She was right. I'm leaving the Navy in three months and I don't know what I'm going to do. All I know is I don't want to stay in Washington. I've had enough of the place."

"Mmm. Well, this afternoon I'm gonna take you out to the ranch your dad bought, because Em gave me an idea."

Nathan was impressed with the Brooks ranch, as it was still called in town. Rosa and Innis Brooks had moved to New Mexico several weeks before; the house now stood empty and had a slight air of desertion about it, but the sunlight pouring through the windows kept it from being depressing. Bill took Nathan through the barn and some of the pastureland before stopping the truck in the driveway.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning off the ignition.

"It's a nice place, Uncle Bill. I like it. I think Dad and Em did the right thing when they decided to buy it." 

"I'm glad you think so, because I talked them into it," Bill confessed with a grin. "Now listen. The place is empty and your folks aren't going to be moving here for at least another couple of years, maybe more. They need somebody here, and I don't mean just to come by and take a look at the place once a week, I mean somebody to live here. I think you'd be perfect for the job."

Nathan stared out the windshield for a moment, listening to the sound of the wind blowing through the pine trees in the front yard. "Uncle Bill," he ventured finally, "it sounds like it'd be great for a vacation, or a break, but what I really need is a career."

"Use it as a break. Buy yourself time to think about what you want to do. I'm not saying you have to live here for years, but any time you can spend here would be a favor to your folks and a favor to me. I promised them I'd keep an eye on the place, but to be honest I've got enough to do as it is."

Nathan looked thoughtfully back at the house. "It sounds just great, Uncle Bill, but can I think about it?"

"Of course. You don't have to give me an answer right away."

Nathan continued to think about his uncle's offer for the rest of the week. Shortly before the end of his leave he drove into town to pick up some fence-mending equipment. He was fortunate to find a parking place directly in front of the hardware store and went in, glancing at his list. Unable to find the fencing wire, he looked over to the register and was stunned to find himself staring at the most beautiful girl – woman, he corrected himself; she looked to be about his age – he had ever seen. 

"Um, hi," he said lamely, forgetting for the moment what he had been going to ask.

She flashed him a smile. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for wire. For fences."

"Aisle seven, at the back."

Having completed his shopping, Nathan took the bulky fencing out to the truck and returned to pick up the rest of his equipment. The cashier raised an eyebrow as he returned. "Nice truck," she commented dryly.

Nathan laughed. "I borrowed it from a friend. At least it was free, it beats renting one for a week." As she handed him the bag containing the rest of his purchases, she met his eyes and blushed under his stare.

"What's your name?"

"I am Lupe. Lupe Hernandez, my father owns the store."

"I'm Nathan Pierce. I'm here visiting family."

"Oh, you're visiting? I thought I had not seen you here before. You said you are staying for a week?"

"Yes. I leave tomorrow, but I'll be back in a few months. I'm coming back here to live." Tucking the bag under his arm, he smiled at her and left.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the delay since the last chapter; here you go!

Nathan's suggestion to Martha did not go forgotten; after a few days' thought and a quick discussion with her husband, Martha called Gertrude and invited her to visit. Gertrude's reaction was mixed, as the thought of traveling to Washington both excited and unnerved her. Unsure whether or not to accept, she consulted her grandson:

"Of course you should go, Grandma." Nathan was definite in his reply. "You've never been to visit Dad, have you, all the time he's been there? Trust me, you'll have a great time. Em is terrific, and I know she and Dad want to see you. The Smithsonian is amazing, you'd love it. And you can see the White House – I bet Em would give you a tour of the whole place if you asked."

"You don't think I'd be a hindrance to them? I don't get around quite as well as I used to, Nathan. I know you had a lot of fun while you were visiting, but you got away and did a lot of things on your own. I'd be with Martha and your father every minute I was there."

"I'm sure they've thought of all that. They can get you a wheelchair for the really lengthy stuff so you wouldn't have to stand. Come on, if FDR used one you can too. Look at it this way," he added as Gertrude still looked unsure. "Em and Dad won't be in Washington that much longer. Now is the time to go if you're going to go. And I think having you there would do Em good. Right now she's so focused on getting the book out she can't think of anything else. She's getting nervous about the tour, too. She needs to let the publisher take care of all that and spend some time with you."

His argument convinced Gertrude, and shortly afterward she phoned Martha to accept. One quick conversation later her travel dates were set and within a week Gertrude found herself on a plane to Washington. Angie had made all the travel arrangements and Gertrude was amazed to find herself in first class; not having flown in years, she found herself enjoying the novelty of the trip and finally relaxed, anticipating a pleasant visit with her son and daughter-in-law.

Martha knew Gertrude would expect a tour of the White House. Although not eager to return to a place containing so many memories of Charles, she reminded herself that Gertrude was sure to enjoy it and called President Wayne Palmer's personal aide, who was happy to schedule their visit. Angie and Marie pitched in to organize a tour of the National Museum of American History as a nod to Gertrude's interest in that subject, and Aaron invited Jon Cardona and his wife to come to dinner during his mother's stay. "Mother hates big parties. She's a lot like me," he explained to Martha with a grin, "but a small dinner with friends is something she'd really enjoy. She'll like seeing Jon and his wife again, too."

Having consulted Aaron for his suggestions, Martha was careful to limit the number of extended activities on their schedule so as not to tire her mother-in-law. She found herself wondering whether Gertrude would be bored and, more worrying, what they would talk about when she wasn't acting as tour guide. In the end the balance she'd chosen worked out well, enough to keep Gertrude entertained without exhausting her. Martha was even more relieved to find that conversation was never a problem: the novelty of the trip had energized Gertrude, who dropped her usual reticence and became downright talkative. The kitchen soon became their favorite location for chat as well as cooking, and after Martha broke the ice by wondering out loud what to serve the Cardonas for dinner, Gertrude was happy to share recipe suggestions with her daughter-in-law. It was clear that Aaron's affection for kitchens had come from his mother, who felt that the kitchen was the proper social center of the household.

"Do you like to cook, Martha?"

"I think I do, but I'm sort of neutral about it. It is work, but when I started living by myself it didn't take long for me to figure out that I wasn't going to be able to afford to eat out every night. Besides, after all those White House dinner parties, I think it's a lot less stressful to cook for yourself and eat what you want, when you want. It gives you more control. My mother taught me to cook, at least she tried to. She always said it was a life skill that everyone needed to learn, and she was right. I wouldn't call myself a good cook but at least I learned enough from her not to burn things."

Gertrude nodded approval. Encouraged by this, Martha finally worked up her nerve to ask: "Gertrude, I'd love to fix your chili for Aaron – my chili recipe is okay, but yours is definitely better. Would you tell me how to make it?"

"Of course!" Gertrude looked mildly surprised. "Ann and Barbara make it all the time. I didn't know you wanted the recipe, Martha."

"I was afraid to ask," Martha confessed. "I thought it might be a family secret or something."

"Martha, you're part of the family now," Gertrude said gently. "I want you to have the recipe. Here, let me write it down for you…"

From talk of cooking it was an easy step to sharing news about the Pierce clan, particularly Nathan and his future – a favorite subject for both Martha and Gertrude.

"That boy needs to get married," his grandmother muttered one afternoon.

"Maybe he'll meet somebody now that he's moving home. He told me he didn't have much chance to meet girls in the Navy, being at sea as much as he was. He said most of them were already engaged, anyway, or they were straight out of high school and too young for him."

Her mother-in-law looked thoughtful. "Diane knows everybody in town. Maybe she can set him up with someone."

"What do you think of this man Diane's dating?"

Gertrude sniffed slightly. "Well, he's not Aaron." Martha giggled at this, which made her smile. "But she's happy, and they seem to have settled down together pretty well, so I can't say I have a problem with it."

Martha found the White House tour easier than she had anticipated. For one thing, both Beth Gardner and the Palmers had redecorated in an attempt to put their stamp on the place; as a result many of the furnishings Martha remembered were no longer there. This made her feel more like a visitor than a former resident, enabling her to keep her emotional distance from her memories of life with Charles. As the First Lady it had been her frequent duty to escort important visitors around the White House, and she had been intensively coached on its history; she did her best to share the remnants of what she had learned with Gertrude, but she was touched to find that her mother-in-law was much more interested to hear her reminiscences of meeting visitors in the Diplomatic Room or minor dinner disasters in the State Dining Room. "It makes it more real, Martha," she explained. "I can see what it was like for you here. It must have been an incredible experience!"

"It was," Martha agreed. "It was stressful, for a lot of reasons, but I got to meet some amazing people and I had experiences I never would have had otherwise. When I was writing the book I found myself remembering a lot of good things I thought I'd forgotten. I do have some good memories of my time here." As they wandered through room after room, Martha realized that instead of being overwhelmed by memories of Charles, it was Aaron who was foremost in her mind. Visions of him escorting her out to the Presidential limousine or walking with her through the halls, as he had done so many times, filled her memory and lightened her mood. As they passed a doorway in the hall, Martha impulsively opened it and looked inside – then apologized to the room's occupant who turned, startled, from his desk. She looked around the room, smiling, then thanked the secretary and left.

"What room was that?" Gertrude asked curiously. "Your office?"

"No, my office was upstairs. I wanted to see that room again because that was where Aaron kissed me for the first time. It was the day after the Palmer funeral."

"He did?" repeated Gertrude, stunned.

"Yes, he did. It was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me." Martha blushed.

Just as Martha was congratulating herself on the success of their tour, Gertrude's next question suddenly brought her back to earth with an unpleasant thud: "Tell me more about your book, Martha. Is it just about your time in the White House or are you covering more than that?"

_Oh, my God. I'm going to have to tell her,_ Martha realized. She suddenly felt a weight settle in the pit of her stomach. Aloud she answered, "More. It's… it's about a lot of things that happened, not just about being at the White House." Gertrude's puzzled look made her realize how awkward she sounded; hastily she added, "I need to explain more about the book, but I think we should wait until we get home."

As soon as they returned Martha fortified herself with a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table. "I'm sorry I overreacted, Gertrude, but I have to tell you something about me that's in the book." She sighed. "This isn't going to be easy, but you need to know this before the press finds out and it gets into the news. Aaron already knows all about it."

Gertrude looked surprised. "Is something wrong, Martha?"

"It's something that I'm sure is going to get a lot of publicity. Something that happened in my first marriage." As briefly as possible she told Gertrude the story of her abortion, leaving out the details of Charles' history of abuse but explaining that he had not been emotionally capable of parenthood. The look of shock on Gertrude's face turned her hands cold. As she warmed them on her cup she wondered if she had completely lost her mother-in-law's respect, what the rest of the Pierce family would think and how her own mother would have reacted to the news.

Gertrude finally broke the silence. "Martha, I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry." She reached across the table and covered Martha's hand with hers.

Martha burst into tears. "I thought… I was afraid…" she began, but could say nothing more until she calmed down. Mopping her face with a dishtowel, she smiled shakily and whispered, "Thank you."

"Ambler Grove's seen its share of sad stories. We know about spousal abuse and abortion there, Martha, we see it just like everybody else. We just never think it happens to people who are famous and successful, but it does. I think it's brave of you to talk about this, but are you ready for what's going to happen when the book comes out?"

"Nathan asked me the same thing. I'm ready. Telling you and Aaron was the hardest part; I really don't care what some talk show host thinks. As long as I focus on why I wrote about it and why I chose to tell my story, I'll be fine."

Gertrude decided not to argue the issue further but was unable to shake off her concern. After a night spent wondering what the consequences of Martha's decision would be, her worry drove her to find her son the following morning before he left for work. Gesturing Aaron into the den and shutting the door, she said, "Aaron, Martha and I had a long talk yesterday. She told me about the abortion. Do you really think she's going to be able to handle the publicity she's going to get when the book comes out?"

"I do." Aaron's calm response lightened the worried look on his mother's face somewhat. "We've talked about it, and she's spent a lot of time thinking about this. She didn't intend to publish that chapter when she started writing. The more time she spent on it the more she realized it needed to be included in the book." He gave his mother a hug. "I'm glad Martha told you. Are you having a good time? Enjoying yourself?"

"Enjoying myself! Aaron, I feel ten years younger." She smiled. "I think I need to travel more. It seems to agree with me."

"You're welcome back any time, you know that. Martha told me she's gotten to know you a lot better this week, and I know having you here has been good for her."

"It's been good for me, Aaron. Martha is a good listener. Ann and Barbara try, but they're always so busy with the kids it's difficult to have a long talk about anything."

As they headed into the kitchen they were greeted by the sight of Martha, barefoot and with hair still tousled from the shower, hurriedly packing Aaron's lunch. "I'm almost done, Aaron. It's a good thing he likes tuna," she added to Gertrude, smiling. "It's sort of my fallback. He gets it about twice a week."

Gertrude was touched. "Do you make his lunch every day?"

"I have a lot of lunch meetings, so about half the time I don't need to bring lunch. But when I do, Martha packs it for me." Aaron put his arms around his wife and kissed her. Watching her face light up, Gertrude smiled.

"I like to do it," Martha explained. "Besides, I have more time in the morning than he does."

"And you make better tuna than I do," Aaron added with a smile. Giving his mother a quick hug and promising to call Martha later, he headed out the door.

After Aaron left Gertrude remained thoughtful and quiet for most of the morning. Somewhat surprised by this, Martha finally asked: "Is everything all right, Gertrude? You seem a little sad."

"I'm fine, Martha. I've just been remembering. The older I get, the more the memories come back when you don't expect them to, and they're hard to shake off. Seeing you and Aaron together this morning – it reminded me of Bill. My husband."

"Your husband?" Martha sat down, interested; she had never heard much about Aaron's father. "Tell me about him."

Gertrude gave a reminiscent smile. "Bill was a year ahead of me in high school. He was popular, outgoing, athletic… a school favorite. Everyone liked him. I never thought much about him until we got assigned to the same math class when he was a senior; I was a lot quieter, and we didn't run with the same crowd. Bill was having trouble with math so we started studying together, and that's when I got to know him."

She looked beyond Martha into the past. "He looked happy and easygoing on the surface, but his home life was terrible. He covered it up so well hardly anyone knew – or if they did, nobody talked about it. His father drank and beat his mother, his older brother was in trouble with the law almost constantly." She sighed. "One day his brother just up and disappeared, left town. We never did find out what happened to him. Bill didn't share all this with me right away. The more time we spent together the more he trusted me and the more he told me. I started to realize what a really good person he was and how hard he was trying to hold things together for his mother. We started to date, and it didn't take long before we fell in love. After he graduated Bill took over his father's ranch – his dad was good for nothing by then, he'd run the whole operation into the ground. He died soon after that, before Bill and I got married."

Gertrude gave Martha a sad smile. "Bill worked so hard to make a success of the ranch. I think he was trying to make up for his father's failure. He did get it up and running again, but it took a terrible toll on his health. About ten years ago he got pneumonia and died of it. He went so fast, the doctors couldn't figure out why. But I knew it was because he hadn't been taking care of himself."

"And then?" Martha prompted.

"Well, then young Bill officially took over the ranch. We'd always thought of it as a family business, and young Bill had taken over a lot of the responsibilities of running the place before my Bill died. He was just as worried about his dad as I was, and he wanted his father to cut back and get some rest. We'd given them the ranch house and bought a smaller house in town a few years before, because he and Ann had a couple of kids by then. I stayed in town by myself for a few years, but as you know I had to move back when my health started to go. One thing I learned from Bill, sometimes you just have to know when to quit. I wanted to see my grandkids grow up and I didn't want my children to be worrying about me all the time, whether I was safe or not." Gertrude had a resolute look on her face. "I'd seen my Bill go through enough worrying about his family. Moving back in wasn't my first choice but it's worked out okay. The kids are getting older though, and the house has been pretty full with me there. At least it's gotten better since Jennifer went away to school."

"You never…" Martha hesitated. "You never thought about marrying again?"

Gertrude shook her head. "If something happened to Aaron, Martha, what would you do? Would you marry again?"

"No." Martha's reply was as fast as a reflex.

"That's how I felt. My friends tried to get me to go out and maybe date a bit, but I couldn't look at another man again, not after Bill. I just couldn't." The two women traded looks of understanding.

A few moments before their guests were due to arrive that evening Aaron found his wife staring at the flower arrangement on the table and chewing a fingernail. "Hey." He slipped his arms around her from behind. "Martha, stop staring at the table. It's beautiful. You and Mom did a fantastic job."

"Thank you, sweetheart. I guess I am obsessing about it a little bit." Martha beamed at him. "At least when you hire caterers there's someone else to blame if it goes wrong. This time I don't have that luxury."

"This time it's just Jon and Trish. They aren't here to criticize, they just want to eat dinner and enjoy themselves."

"I hope they like fish. Your mom likes the seafood here so much I wanted to have that for her last dinner here. She says it's not easy getting fresh seafood in Ambler Grove."

Aaron chuckled. "She's right. I think the only fish I ever saw growing up came out of a can or the freezer." Sniffing the air appreciatively, he added, "Is she baking rolls?"

"She is. From scratch." Martha shook her head in awe. "I don't want to disappoint you, Aaron, but I don't think I'm ever going to be much of a baker."

"Just as well. If you made them I'd eat them and I'd have to exercise 24 hours a day." He turned as his mother entered the dining room. "Well, Mother, is your packing done?"

"I'm done," Gertrude announced with a sigh of relief. "It was touch and go whether I'd get my new dresses in the suitcase, but I managed." She gave her daughter-in-law an affectionate smile. "Martha picked this one out for me. Do you like it?"

"It looks great." The simply cut dress made Gertrude look taller and brought out the blue of her eyes, so similar to her son's. "Wait till everybody in town sees you on Sunday in that dress. They'll be so jealous they won't know where to look." His mother's retort was drowned by a knock on the door: their dinner guests had arrived.

At first Jon Cardona had some difficulty making the adjustment to meeting the former First Lady on a social basis: Her "Call me Martha, Jon," though well meant, made him gulp and stammer for an answer. It was Gertrude who stepped into the breach, her low-key conversation enabling Jon and his wife Trish to relax. Martha's obvious respect and affection for her mother-in-law also helped. After a few minutes Aaron was ribbing Jon about their poker game back in Texas and Trish was able to compliment Martha on her wedding.

"A few weeks ago we went to the wedding of a friend of mine and I have to say, Martha, it wasn't nearly as much fun as yours was. There were so many people there we barely got to see anyone we knew, and it was hard just to relax and have fun. I really think you had the right idea."

"I'm so glad to hear you say that," Martha admitted, relieved. "I guess weddings are always one of those things where you second-guess yourself. It was just what Aaron and I wanted, but you always wonder if your guests are having a good time."

"Oh, we did! Jon still talks about it." Trish grinned. "He's such a city boy, but now he keeps wondering out loud what it would be like to buy a ranch in Texas and live there."

Martha laughed. "I'll tell you what it's like. It's nerve-racking. Stick to the city."

Trish raised an eyebrow. "That's what I told him."

Dinner was an unqualified success, Jon and Aaron in particular appreciating the homebaked rolls. Conversation ranged from travel to politics to the latest White House developments; one snatch of conversation caught Martha's attention:

"Does CTU think they've found their guy? Bauer?"

"I hear they've got a lead on him, but I don't know for sure." Aaron shrugged. "I hope they find him, he's a good man."

After dinner the group moved to the living room to continue their conversation over coffee. Finally, with a comment that he had to work tomorrow, Jon and his wife stood up reluctantly to go.

"Thank you for having us, Martha. This was a lot of fun." Jon gave her a warm hug in farewell.

"You're welcome, Jon. I hope we can do this again sometime soon," she added to Trish. "I really enjoyed it." In fact, it had been a novel experience to host a party where the only thing she'd had to worry about was whether the guests would like the food. Having to play the political hostess, worrying whether anything she said would affect the fate of the free world or her husband's career, and making conversation with people she didn't know: all these things had made it years since she'd enjoyed any social event in Washington. She said as much to Aaron as they cleared the table.

"So you weren't bored, then?" Aaron looked slightly relieved.

"Bored! No. I felt like I was… normal. I felt normal." Martha closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting her shoulders relax. "It feels good, Aaron."

Aaron felt a twist of pity, thinking of all the years she'd been trapped in a situation she hated. "I want you to feel this way the rest of your life. I want you to be yourself, Martha –" her kiss stopped him from finishing his sentence.

"You help me to be myself. I love you," she whispered.

Both Aaron and Martha took Gertrude to the airport the next morning, making sure her baggage was checked and escorting her as far as the security checkpoint. A flash of Aaron's government ID ensured Gertrude a ride on one of the electronic luggage carts to the gate, as well as a solicitous escort from an airline representative.

"Thank you so much, both of you!" After exchanging hugs and kisses with her son and daughter-in-law, Gertrude smiled and waved back at them as the cart headed down the corridor. Aaron and Martha turned away and headed back toward the parking garage.

"Had enough company for a while?" Aaron asked her, smiling.

"Definitely. It's been fun, but it'll be nice to go back to being just us again." The shrill beep of her cell phone drew Martha's attention; pulling it from her coat pocket, she recognized the number of her editor in New York and quickly answered it.

"Elinor, is that you?"

"Yes." The voice on the other end was clipped and tense. "Martha, I hate to tell you this but the cat's out of the bag."

"What?"

"The _New York Times_ reviewer somehow got hold of an advance copy of _Finding My Self_. His review's going to hit the paper tomorrow and the whole story of your pregnancy is out. He liked the book, though," she added optimistically.

"Oh, my God." Martha stopped walking for a moment, forcing herself to think. "Well, we knew this was going to happen eventually, just not quite this soon."

"Right. I'm afraid this means we have to move up the publicity campaign a bit."

"What do you mean by 'a bit'?" Martha asked suspiciously.

"We have two interviews lined up for you this week and I'm working on a third."

"Elinor, the book isn't even out yet. We still have a month—"

"Not with this, we don't. I really think we need to get your explanation out there, Martha."

Martha and Aaron exchanged glances. "Let me talk to my husband, Elinor. We're just leaving the airport. I'll call you back."


	6. Chapter 6

Martha unconsciously increased her pace toward the car, head down and hands jammed into her coat pockets as she quickly explained Elinor's news. By the time she finished they had reached the parking garage. Aaron opened the car door for her and slid into the driver's seat with a frown on his face. Instead of starting the car he stared ahead for a few seconds, clearly thinking over her news. Then he turned and looked at her, the expression on his face gentle but worried; she looked at him and nodded.

"We knew this was coming."

"Yes." He said nothing more but took her hand in his. She squeezed it.

"I'm ready, Aaron. When I decided to put that chapter in…" she paused, "I knew what it meant. The worst part was telling you and telling your mother. Everybody else's opinion isn't that much of a problem."

He looked into her eyes, the look she loved: clear, uncritical, kind. "You're a remarkable woman. Have I ever told you that?"

Martha blushed. "Not like that. Even if we weren't married, even if you were Agent Pierce, you'd think I was remarkable?"

"I would."

Martha leaned her head against his shoulder. "That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." They said nothing more, and after a few minutes he started the car.

* * *

With an edge of nervousness, Seaman First Class Nathan Pierce had just told his commanding officer that he was not planning to reenlist.

"Damn it, Pierce, we just got a new batch of recruits on this ship! Do you know how tough it's going to be getting them up to speed? I can't lose you now. I need all the help I can get."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I've given this a lot of thought. It's time for me to make a change and I just don't think another round is what I want."

His commanding officer sighed. However, he was a shrewd man and after giving Nathan a sharp look he nodded his head. "I've been thinking you were getting itchy feet for a while. I used to think you were a career man, but maybe I was wrong."

"I used to think I was too. But my father's nearly been killed twice in the past three years, sir, and I just feel like life's too short to be spending it at sea."

"He's Secret Service, isn't he? Pretty sure I've heard of him."

"Yes, sir."

The officer raised his eyebrows. "You can be proud of your old man, Pierce, I'll say that."

"I am, sir. Very proud."

"Good for you. Well, if you need a recommendation, you just let me know. I'll give you a good one."

Nathan grinned. "Thank you, sir, I may be taking you up on that."

* * *

Elinor Rangell, the head editor of Martha's publishing house, was a tall, thin bundle of nerves who managed to project unstoppable confidence and utter neuroticism at the same time. Martha, who had only managed to be one or the other at any given time, regarded her with awe.

"Okay, Martha, okay. Okay. Here we go. Everything's going to be fine." She lit a cigarette.

"Who are you trying to convince, you or me?" Martha tried to ignore the temptation to snitch a cigarette from Elinor's pack.

"Both of us. Don't interrupt." Elinor waved her cigarette to emphasize the point. "Just go out there and tell your story to him the way you told it to me. Don't let him intimidate you."

"I'm not going to," Martha stated calmly.

Her editor turned and regarded her with mild surprise. "I believe you. Doesn't this make you nervous?"

"Of course it does, but it's not the worst thing in the world by a long shot. I've already been through the worst thing in the world and I promise you this isn't it."

"Maybe I should fire my therapist and hire you instead."

Martha grinned. "You couldn't pay me enough, Elinor. Now listen. As soon as I get done with the interview we go back to your office to meet with Publicity, is that right?"

"Publicity? Yes." She sighed. "The marketing part of this job drives me nuts. Did I tell you my boss is going to be there?"

"Yes, you did. Elinor, I'm not going to go to pieces, I promise. Everything's going to be fine." She paused for a second. "I think you just said that. Anyway, the conference has to end by five-thirty so I can make my train. I promised Aaron I'd be home tonight." Giving Elinor a quick wave, she left the green room and headed down the hall to the interview studio.

The man who rose to shake her hand was somewhere in the gray zone between middle-aged and elderly, wearing the pastel dress shirt and bow tie combination which had become his trademark. Tom Ehrlich, known as "the interviewer's interviewer," had gotten his start on talk radio and then moved on to television; his late-night show had been a favorite of insomniacs for over a decade. Although he was known for asking intelligent questions of his guests, Ehrlich's talk-radio roots had unfortunately left him with a taste for the lurid as well. Occasionally his interviews would veer into tabloid territory.

"Tom's a straight shooter, Martha, but he's tough," Elinor had warned her. "A good interview with him would be the perfect beginning for your tour. We were lucky to get him this soon, he's usually booked up for weeks. He made a point of making room for you on his schedule, but you know what that means: he thinks you're news and he wants to get in first."

_But no pressure, right, Elinor?_ Martha thought sarcastically before admitting to herself that this was unfair: her publishers needed _Finding My Self_ to be a success as much as she did, and Elinor, with twenty years' experience in publishing, had been of enormous help in getting her book finished. Having produced several successful celebrity memoirs, she was naturally the publisher's first choice to work with Martha; after reading the first few chapters of _Finding My Self_, Elinor was fired with enthusiasm for the project and turned out to be an almost endless source of practical suggestions. At her urging Martha had recorded and watched as many of Ehrlich's shows as she could manage in order to familiarize herself with his interviewing style. As she walked into the studio she realized that Elinor had been right: the room felt familiar to her. Even the pattern of Ehrlich's bow tie was recognizable. This managed to calm the butterflies in her stomach, at least to a certain extent.

"Ah. The famous Martha Logan Pierce." Ehrlich gave a smirk of satisfaction.

"Mr. Ehrlich." Martha felt a stab of irritation, not really the fault of her host. She hadn't wanted to use the name Logan at all and had begged to publish as "Martha Powell Pierce" instead. After a particularly heated debate with the marketing department Elinor had stepped into the controversy to remind Martha that her status as former First Lady was the entire rationale for the book; Martha had recognized that her editor was right and backed down, though not happily. Trying to keep her tone pleasant and relaxed, she added, "It's very good of you to schedule me on such short notice."

"It was a pleasure. I'm delighted to meet you. I once interviewed your first husband back when he was running for lieutenant governor." As he imparted this information, Ehrlich looked as pleased as if they'd discovered a mutual friend.

"Did you?"

"I was still doing radio then." Ehrlich had a faintly nostalgic look in his eyes. "Quite an interview, as I recall. Logan was full of ideas. He wanted to streamline California's governance system, chop out the bureaucracy and make it more efficient. Too bad he never got the chance." Ehrlich gave a faintly contemptuous shrug, adding, "He went on to bigger and better things."

Martha registered the barbed comment but ignored it; noting her lack of reaction, Ehrlich extended himself to make his subject more at ease. Treating her to his most charming smile, he added, "Shall we go by first names? I think it usually helps with the interview."

"That sounds fine, Tom."

The journalist glanced over to the head of the camera crew, who gave him a thumbs up. Gesturing her to a chair he added, "We're just finishing the sound and lighting checks; we'll be ready to go in a minute. I'll be asking you about the book, of course – your publisher was kind enough to get me a copy and it was fascinating reading – but I'd like the viewers to get to know you, as well. The real Martha Logan Pierce."

Martha raised an eyebrow. "The real me? That may not be as interesting as you think, Tom."

"Oh, come now, Martha. You're a survivor of a difficult marriage. You have a history of, ah… instability that you were able to overcome. How did you manage it? And I find your volunteer work inspiring. The World Bank programs owe a lot to your focus on the good they're doing. I'd like to spend some time on that during the interview." With reluctant respect Martha realized that Ehrlich had done his research; _I suppose that's why his show does so well_, she thought.

"I'd love to talk about that, actually. The World Bank's poverty reduction programs are probably my favorite cause. They're doing a lot to help women in the Third World start their own businesses – but I'm sure you know that," she finished somewhat sheepishly, remembering that Ehrlich frequently hosted economists on his show.

"I do, but the audience might not. We'll talk about it." Ehrlich cut the conversation short as the director indicated his readiness. "Okay, let's get started." Speaking into his microphone, his voice became lower and more hypnotic: "Welcome to _Night Talk_, the show that brings you the best in one-on-one journalism. My name is Tom Ehrlich and tonight we have with us the remarkable Martha Logan Pierce, author of the forthcoming book _Finding My Self_. Martha, it's a pleasure to have you here…"

The interviews on _Night Talk_ tended to follow a set pattern, which Martha had noted on her repeated viewings of the show. Ehrlich opened the interview with one or two uncontroversial topics to set his subject at ease and then progressed to more personal subjects. Her experience was no exception: as promised he began with her fundraising for the World Bank, moving on to Russian politics and the beauties of the Kremlin (it turned out that Ehrlich had been to Russia and had an impressive knowledge of Russian history).

"You're close to the Suvarovs still?"

"Very close. Particularly Anya – Mrs. Suvarov. They came to the reception President and Mrs. Gardner held after my wedding last year." Seeing a glint in Ehrlich's eyes, Martha suddenly had a feeling that the interview was about to shift into more difficult territory.

"Ah, your wedding! Your first marriage ended shortly after the attacks, of course. Speaking of that first marriage, it turns out that in your book you share with us the story that Charles Logan forced you to terminate your pregnancy."

"He persuaded me into it, yes."

"This is sure to be a controversial topic. What made you decide to cover it in your book?"

Martha explained that she had originally written the chapter for therapeutic purposes, not intending to publish it, and her gradual decision to make it the center of the book. "That's really where everything started to go wrong," she explained. "My first bad bout of depression came after the abortion."

"Do you foresee your experience being used as fodder for the pro-life or pro-choice movements?"

Martha shrugged. "It probably will, but that isn't why I wrote about it. I don't think what happened gives me the right to speak for every woman who has to face this decision. For me, the abortion was a mistake and I didn't realize at the time just how big a mistake it would prove to be. What I'm hoping is that anyone who reads _Finding My Self_ will be able to apply my experience to his or her life. If you have to make a major decision, make sure it's based on your needs, not someone else's. Obviously you have to take other people into account, I'm not advocating perfect selfishness, but if it's something that's really important to you don't let anyone else make that decision for you."

Looking impressed, Ehrlich nodded before moving back to the topic of Martha's second marriage. "And you've been remarried about a year now?"

"A little longer."

"Your husband is well regarded in the Secret Service." Ehrlich paused for a moment. "He was formerly in charge of your security, I believe?"

"Yes." Martha was beginning to feel uneasy with the direction the conversation was taking. "He was with me the day of the attacks – in fact he saved my life. After I left the White House he was reassigned and worked with President Gardner quite a bit."

"_Finding My Self_ touches on your relationship, but I'm sure the audience would love to know more about it. This is a fairy tale come true, Martha. The First Lady falling in love with the man who protected her… every woman in America wants to hear about your marriage."

"But the point of _Finding My Self_ isn't my marriage per se, Tom. It's how I was able to recognize that Aaron and I were right for each other. It's about looking past superficial things like money and status and recognizing who someone truly is. What their good qualities are. And it's about being able to admit your own mistakes, the things you've done wrong and trying to do better."

"All good things. But it's your journey we want to hear about. Your first marriage was in trouble well before the day of the attacks. When exactly did your relationship with your current husband begin?"

"After the attacks." Martha tensed but kept her voice calm. "Aaron was and is a true professional, Tom. He's dedicated to his job, as anyone in the Service will tell you. Even Charles, my ex-husband, never questioned that his relationship with me was strictly that of agent to First Lady. It was at the end of that day, when we had both realized that it was Charles who was behind the plot and we were working together to try to stop him, that I realized that Aaron might see me as anything other than a responsibility. And as for me…" she paused. "I loved Charles. I simply couldn't believe that I had been so wrong about him. It's still very difficult for me to talk about; in fact if it weren't for Aaron I'm not really sure I would have made it through that ordeal with my sanity. I touch on this in the book as well, as I'm sure you know. I saw no reason to hide it."

"But how did you recover?" Tom looked genuinely interested.

"I didn't have time to think about myself." Suddenly the two of them were laughing. "It's true! I had to get out of the White House, and I had to earn a living. The lawsuits against Charles' estate are still going on. I could have fought harder to keep some of the money, I suppose. But I didn't want to. I walked away and I'm glad I did. Doesn't Freud say that the two things you need to have meaning in your life are love and work? He's right. I have them both now and I'm happier than I've ever been."

"And on that note, I'll say goodnight. This has been _Night Talk_, bringing you a truly inspiring interview with a fine writer, Martha Logan Pierce." As the lights clicked off Ehrlich leaned back in his chair with a sigh of relief. "Martha, that was unbelievable. I haven't had this much fun with an interview in a very long time. Any time you can make it here again I'd be pleased to have you on the show."

Martha was stunned. "Thank you, Tom. I enjoyed this too. I didn't realize spending an hour talking about myself could be so much fun," she quipped.

Ehrlich shook his head. "Actually, that's what made this unique. You didn't. It's refreshing to talk to someone who has more on their minds than shilling a book or a movie. Let me just say one thing," he added as they shook hands. "I know the interview circuit pretty well. I've got a feeling some of these people are going to try to use you to fit their needs. Their personal ideologies, any axe they may have to grind, their political views, that sort of thing. Don't let them do it."

"Thanks for the warning. I won't."

* * *

Elinor was waiting for her in the corridor with a look of mock shock on her face. "He liked you. He really _liked_ you! You charmed the pants off him, Martha. Nice work!"

"I think he was expecting something different. A lot of shocking revelations about the White House or a controversial interview, maybe even me having a nervous breakdown."

"Why would he think that? He read the book, didn't he?"

"Oh yes, he read it. He quoted from it, so he must have. And I think he prepares pretty well for his interviews. But from what he said to me as I was leaving, I get the feeling people may be trying to get that kind of interview from me. This tour is going to be really tough, Elinor."

Her editor shooed her into the waiting limousine. "You can handle anything they throw at you, Martha. I'm going to have my assistant pull your tour schedule for the conference. I want to make sure Martin booked you with the right people. This interview gave me an idea." Pulling her phone from her pocket, she spent the short journey back to the publishers issuing instructions to her assistant as Martha stared out the window at the traffic wondering what plan Elinor had hatched.

* * *

The head of editorial, Steve Adler, was very much in evidence when they returned to the office. Elinor both respected and disliked her boss, confiding to Martha that he loathed writers but had a good track record for picking successful manuscripts. Realizing with a twinge of cynicism that only her fame would have attracted Adler to sit in on their conference, Martha greeted him with a polite handshake but saved her warmth for Tracy, Elinor's secretary. ("She's my right hand man. I wouldn't survive a day without her," Elinor had confessed during one of their panicked meetings near the manuscript's deadline.)

"Thank you so much, Tracy! It was good of you to get all this set up on such short notice." Tracy blushed, thanked Martha in return and then, catching Adler's glare, muttered something inaudible and retired to a corner of the conference room. "Mr. Adler, I'm happy to report the interview went well," Martha added offhandedly. She reached for the water pitcher in the center of the table, but Adler got there first and poured her a glass with a flourish.

"I'm very glad to hear it, Ms. Pierce! Very glad indeed." Giving his author a facile smile, Adler shot a glance at Elinor for confirmation; Elinor gave a vigorous nod.

"She had Ehrlich eating out of her hand, Steve. Not only did he like her, he liked the book. I wanted to review our marketing plan for _Finding My Self_. This isn't just your average self-help book – no offense, Martha," she added with a grin.

"None taken." Martha turned to greet the harassed-looking man heading through the doors of the conference room. "Martin, how are you?"

"Great, great, thanks." Martin Andrews had as much experience in book publicity as Elinor had in editing; together he and Elinor made a formidable team. They had a classic love-hate relationship at work (and, Martha sometimes suspected, in their off hours as well). While they had tremendous respect for each other's abilities, Elinor felt that publicists never properly valued the author's work and Martin viewed editors as impractical dreamers who paid no attention to the financial realities of publishing. Martin's next comment confirmed this: "Oh God, you brought _her_ along? She's going to ruin all my best-laid plans, editors always do. Oh, hello, Mr. Adler," he added awkwardly as he realized the head of the editorial department was also present. "I, uh, didn't see you there."

"Andrews." Adler treated the publicist to a brief nod before turning back to Martha and Elinor. "So, shall we get started?"

Elinor gave the discomfited Martin a comforting pat on the shoulder before moving to the front of the room. "I asked Martin here – I asked both of you here – to finalize plans for _Finding My Self_. Tom Ehrlich loved the book, and he loved Martha. I think _Finding My Self_ is going to be a classic in its genre. We shouldn't be pushing it as a quickie memoir; it has the potential to be a lot more than that. That's why I wanted to see which interviewers you had her lined up with, Martin." Taking the list from Tracy with a nod, she began running her finger down the names, making the occasional comment.

"Okay… he'd be good… Klingman is a conspiracy nut, Martin. I don't think he's really what we want."

"He is _not_ a conspiracy nut," Andrews contradicted. "He does talk radio, Martha. You've probably heard of him; his show runs coast to coast."

Elinor gave a dismissive wave. "He'll interrogate her about the terrorist attacks for an hour and then proclaim that she's 'in on the fix.'" Martha shuddered at the thought.

Adler broke in on the brewing disagreement with his own comment: "I'm glad to hear that everything is going so well, Elinor, and I fully agree that we should give Martha all the support we can. But I haven't mentioned yet why I'm here." Pausing strategically, he waited until he had the attention of everyone in the room. "I've reviewed your manuscript myself, Martha, and I'm impressed. I may say, very impressed. I'm here to talk to you about plans for a second book."

Martha's jaw dropped. "A what? _Another_ book?"


	7. Chapter 7

_

* * *

_

Thanks for your comments and your willingness to read! For those of you who don't remember Jane Hughes, she's a character I introduced in "Aftermath" who has been dating Mike Novick.

"Absolutely, another book." Adler gave a firm nod. "I know good writing when I see it. I'm not blowing my own horn – at least, not this time," he added with a deprecating grin. "Elinor will tell you about my track record. Finding and encouraging good writers is what I do. You are a good writer. I am certain that you have more stories to tell. I realize that right now, having just finished the book, you're probably feeling like you never want to face a keyboard again. But give it some thought, let it percolate and get back to us when you're ready. Elinor," he added, "I've got another meeting so I'll leave you to it. Goodbye, all," he added, making a graceful exit.

Silence reigned in the conference room as the writer in question glanced back and forth between Martin and Elinor. "Did you put him up to this?" Martha finally inquired icily.

"No, but I suppose I should have guessed. He likes to do this sort of thing. He calls it 'encouraging the authors.'" Elinor shrugged. "You know, he's right, Martha. Remember that list of ideas you showed me a couple months ago? The ones we couldn't use because the book was already running long? I bet you could give us a sequel to _Finding My Self_. Or even fiction! You could write a novel!" Her face lit up.

"I'll make it a murder mystery. You're going to be the victim." Martin chuckled, and Elinor glared at him.

"Let's get back to the tour, okay? Martin, have you heard back from Oprah yet?"

* * *

Martha had no time to savor her feeling of triumph after the Ehrlich interview. The publicity juggernaut for _Finding My Self _was rumbling into gear and she constantly felt it was about to run her over; on her bad days it seemed it might crush Aaron as well. He had watched the _Night Talk_ interview with her a few days later, and while he had found it enjoyable overall she could feel him bristle at Ehrlich's insinuation that she and Aaron had been having an affair while she had been married to Charles.

"Is there going to be more of this?"

"Probably." Martha sighed. "Aaron, you know people are bound to ask about this. There was a lot of goodwill for me after the attacks, thanks to Hal Gardner and the Suvarovs. But then the news started to leak out about us, and we got married right after Charles was killed… it's not so surprising, I guess."

"It's none of their damn business." Martha felt a twinge of shock; Aaron almost never used even the mildest curse word. Realizing how angry he must be, she reached out tentatively and touched his chest.

"I'm sorry, Aaron. Maybe I never should have written the book in the first place. But I didn't do it to expose our personal lives. I wrote it because I had something to say. I wanted to share what I've learned."

Taking a deep breath, Aaron calmed himself and covered her hand with his. "And you were right, Martha. I know it's good. I've read it twice already," he added, smiling. "I just wish you didn't have to go through all this. If they have to ask you questions, why can't they stick to the book?"

"I guess because I'm a public figure and they want the audience to get their money's worth." Martha shrugged. "It's buying our retirement, so I can live with it. The day you qualify for your pension, we're off to Texas."

"You're right." Aaron brightened at this reminder. "We've got to start planning soon. I'll need to tell the Director eventually, but I thought it was a little too early. I think Nathan's really looking forward to moving home next month. I hope he doesn't get bored," he added anxiously. "There's not a lot going on in Ambler Grove. It might be hard for him to settle down."

"Oh, I think he'll have plenty to do. Diane and your mother will be all over him, and I know he wanted to visit some of the local farms to see what crops they were raising and pick up some ideas for us. And he's going to be working with Bill, too. He'll keep busy."

* * *

The last few weeks before the tour were a blur of activity. Elinor had arranged a few additional early interviews, but most of Martha's time was taken up with meetings and panicked phone calls from Elinor or Martin (sometimes both). Aaron insisted on reviewing the security arrangements for Martha's appearances and fretted that she no longer qualified for Secret Service protection; Angie reassured him that her federal security clearance, obtained for the Russia trip, was still valid and promised that she would be armed at all times during the tour.

One morning Angie found Martha, who had been trying to pack for the trip and answer yet another sheaf of faxes from Martin, sobbing in Aaron's reading chair. "I can't do this, Angie. I can't. I don't want to leave Aaron and I cannot face any more questions. I'm sick of the damn book. I'm going to call Martin and tell him the tour is off."

Angie opened her mouth to argue but Martha's determined look changed her mind. "You know what you really need?" she said instead. "A break. Of course you're sick of the book. You've been thinking of nothing else for weeks. Here." She handed Martha her cell phone. "Call Jane. You were talking about going to lunch. Just go do it."

"But what about all this?" Martha stared helplessly at the faxes in her hand; Angie gently pried them from her grip.

"I'll take care of this. This is what you hired me for. I wish I'd said something sooner, Martha; you've been stressed out for days. Go get your mind off the book and I'll take care of Martin, and if you still want to cancel the tour tomorrow, then do it. But give yourself time to think about it first." She gave Martha's shoulder a pat and headed back to the den, privately resolving to warn Martin Andrews in no uncertain terms to leave Martha alone.

Two hours later Martha found herself seated opposite Jane Hughes, staring at her salad without much appetite. The lunch rush was over and Martha was grateful for their relative privacy, as it would give them a better chance to talk. She wondered how much she should unburden herself to Jane, not wanting to monopolize the conversation; as it happened, Jane's news was important enough to keep discussion of _Finding My Self_ to a minimum.

"I'm so glad you called me, Martha." Jane's face lit up with excitement. "I've got big news for you!" She held up her left hand, adorned with a sparkling diamond.

Martha gasped, all thoughts of the book vanishing instantly. "_Jane!_ You're engaged?" She leaned over the table to embrace her friend. "When did Mike ask you?"

"Just a few days ago. Last weekend." Jane blinked away the tears that had started to form. "I was so happy when he asked me, I cried. We're so grateful to you, Martha. Both of us are. We don't have any wedding plans yet but you and Aaron are going to be the guests of honor."

"Jane, I can't take credit for your relationship—"

"But you introduced us. You got me out of my slump and made me go to that reception. If it hadn't been for you, I don't think this would ever have happened. Even if I'd met Mike somewhere else I don't think I would have been in the mood to go out with him when he asked me to." She grinned. "The next time you get interviewed for your book you should use me as Exhibit A. The power of positive thinking."

Martha laughed. "I'm so glad you told me that, Jane. I was starting to question why I ever wrote the book in the first place." Suddenly hungry, she started to eat her lunch. "This is going to be the biggest wedding of the year. Between the two of you, you know practically everybody in Washington."

Jane made a face. "I know. It's going to be one of those deals where we either have to invite everybody or nobody. I'd love to elope, but Mike's not too crazy about the idea. I made him promise he has to help out with all the plans if he wants a big wedding. I'm hoping once he sees what's involved, he'll give up and we can get married the way you and Aaron did."

Martha returned from lunch in excellent spirits, eager to tell Aaron of Mike and Jane's engagement. The news improved her mood enough to get her through the rest of the preparations for the trip without angst. "That lunch was a brilliant idea, Angie. You were right. I guess all I needed was a little perspective," she admitted.

"I have another idea for you. The next time you stress out, just picture having to plan a wedding with hundreds of guests. It'll make the tour feel like a vacation on a cruise ship." Angie chuckled as Martha groaned at the thought.

* * *

The evening before the tour was to begin, Aaron invited Angie and Marie for dinner. "It's an early birthday party," he explained. "Martha's birthday is in two weeks and I wanted to do something before she left." Deciding to keep things simple, he ordered takeout from Martha's favorite Chinese restaurant and produced four cupcakes topped with candles at the conclusion of dinner. Martha laughed with glee as she blew the candles out and handed dessert around.

"This is the best birthday party I've had in a long time. Thank you, Aaron." She leaned over and kissed her husband.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Marie asked eagerly. "This is so exciting, Martha. Three weeks of book signings and talk shows!"

"I hate to sound like a killjoy, Marie, but I'll be really glad when it's over. You're right, though, it is exciting. And it was generous of my publisher – they're picking up the tab for this trip."

"You go to New York first, right?"

"Right. We start from New York, then Boston, the rest of the Eastern Seaboard and then west from there. I made them promise to take me to Dallas, so I'll get to visit with Jennifer."

"How's she enjoying school?" Angie asked.

"She loves it. She's working on getting an internship lined up for this summer at Neiman-Marcus so she can work with Neil Roston."

Dinner ended early, as everyone wanted to get a good night's sleep and Angie had not yet finished packing. As soon as Marie and Angie had left Aaron took Martha's hand and led her to the couch in the living room. "Here's your present," he said, sitting next to her and handing her a small box.

Martha recognized the wrapping paper: it was the jewelry store where he'd gotten her first Christmas present. "You didn't have to do this, sweetheart—" she began, but he cut her off with a kiss.

"Not get my wife a birthday present? I don't think so. Besides, you're fun to shop for. Open it."

The box contained a necklace with a heavy, sculpted pendant made of sterling silver. Martha gasped at the sight of it: "Aaron, this is beautiful."

He helped her to put it on. "Wear it on your trip. I wanted you to have something to remind you I'm thinking about you all the time."

Martha slid onto his lap and held him close. "I'll be thinking of you all the time too. I wish I didn't have to leave," she sighed. "What are you going to be doing while I'm gone?"

Aaron shrugged. "Working. I have a couple projects I have to get done, so that should keep me busy. And I'll be going to the gym a lot. I'll have lots of energy to burn off without you here," he added, letting his hands wander down to her hips and enjoying her answering smile.

"I have a feeling the party isn't over yet." Martha began to unbutton his shirt. "Can I make a birthday request?"

"What is it?"

"Let's stay here on the couch," she whispered in his ear.

* * *

Once embarked on the book tour both Angie and Martha were pleasantly surprised to realize that Martin Andrews was a master of organization. They were whisked from airport to hotel to bookstore without a hitch; hotel gyms opened early for them in every city; even their dry cleaning was always returned on time. Angie, freed to focus on Martha's security, was grateful not to have to worry about travel arrangements or flight cancellations. Andrews, in his turn, was clearly relieved to see that he was not dealing with a prima donna for a client. "Some of the writers I've had to work with, I tell you," he muttered over drinks one night halfway through the trip. "This has been a piece of cake, Martha, and I appreciate it. You're doing a fantastic job."

Angie spent most of her spare time keeping Martha cheerful and focused. By reminding her that she was booked for business dinners nearly every night of the tour, she convinced Martha to commit to a daily exercise routine. Angie's other motivation was the hope that hitting the gym would allow Martha a chance to work off her stress and help her sleep. At six o'clock on their second morning Martha found herself stumbling down the hotel hallway, escorted by Angie and a hotel employee who let them into the gym. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Martha flinched. "I hope nobody's here with a camera," she muttered. "Look at my hair!"

"Forget the hair. Get on the treadmill," Angie advised. "Just think how relaxed you'll be the rest of the day. You'll be able to cope with anything."

"I won't be relaxed, I'll be dead." Forcing herself onto the treadmill, Martha was appalled to see how quickly she tired: She had cut back on her regular exercise for the last several weeks prior to the tour. "I've got to get in better shape," she puffed to Angie, who had barely broken a sweat. Annoyance and a sense of pride urged Martha on to the weights section and she even managed a few stretches before Angie called a halt to their session.

"They're going to open to the public in ten minutes. Go hit the shower, Martha."

"Okay. Tomorrow morning we're on again."

Martha soon came to value their daily workouts, as it provided her with her only real opportunity to talk about anything unrelated to the tour. The interviews and signings were going well, for the most part, but Martha soon realized that the goodwill that had buoyed her through her previous speaking tour had faded slightly. The disclosure of her abortion seemed to have struck a nerve with the public; however, reviewers' continued enthusiasm for _Finding My Self_ had ensured excellent turnouts at her signings. During one of their workout sessions she found herself telling Angie that Elinor and Steve Adler had asked her to write another book.

"What am I going to write _about_? I haven't got any ideas."

"Don't worry about that right now. Just keep it in the back of your mind, maybe write down any ideas that you get and pull out the list every once in a while. They didn't contract you to write more than one book, so don't sweat it. There isn't any pressure here."

"You're right. I'll try that. Angie, I'm so glad you're here. I'm sorry I had to pull you away from home for three weeks, but I know I'd never make it through this tour without you. In fact, I'd never have finished the book without you."

"You had Elinor to help you. And you're a good writer, Martha; I'm sure you can write another book. You could make the next one about economics, maybe. That World Bank program you're involved with."

"I'd like to write about that, but I'm not sure I could build a book around it. I'll put that on the idea list," she added with a grin. "If it works out I'll dedicate the next book to you."

Angie gave a brief smile, but Martha could see she looked worried. "Angie, is something wrong?"

"Not wrong, exactly. It's just that… well, I need to tell you something." Angie walked over and sat down on the weight bench next to Martha. "I've been meaning to tell you this for a while, but you were so busy getting geared up for the tour I didn't want to stress you any more. Marie's parents aren't in very good health, and it looks like Marie and I are going to have to move so she can look after them."

"Where do they live?"

"Philadelphia."

Martha put her weights down, suddenly understanding what Angie was telling her. "You're going to have to leave?"

"Not right away, but yes, we're going to have to leave."

* * *

Aaron had one other event scheduled during Martha's absence: his annual performance review. Although he had long ago come to view these meetings as a tiresome necessity, since his promotion he had found them increasingly useful. Rob Finch, the Director of the Secret Service, now reviewed Aaron personally; since he also had started as an agent before being promoted into the ranks of management, Aaron found his advice extremely helpful. The previous year Finch had given him solid reviews on his performance in recruitment and management, though privately he still sometimes felt on shaky ground with these new duties.

Heading into the Director's office, Aaron did not expect anything different from any of the other performance reviews he had been through until he found Attorney General Haslett waiting for him inside with Director Finch. Somewhat surprised, he shook hands with both men and waited to see what would happen next.

"Aaron, this meeting isn't really about your performance review. I can sum that up for you in one sentence: you're doing great." finch gestured Aaron to a chair near his desk. "I invited the Attorney General here because of his experience working with you on the Logan investigation. He was highly impressed with the work you did on the case."

"Thank you, sir. I wish it had had a more satisfactory ending. We never did find out who was working with Logan."

"Without your help we would never have come close," Haslett contributed. "Director Finch called me to get my opinion of your investigative skills. I was happy to tell him what a great job you did, Aaron. And I thoroughly approved of his idea."

Aaron looked questioningly at the Director. "Idea, sir?"

"Aaron, I'm going to be leaving the Service. Not immediately, but in the next couple of years. It's immensely important that the Service have a strong Director. What happened with Agent Adams proves that; the Service can't afford rogue agents in its ranks. We need someone who is universally respected, preferably with experience in criminal investigation as well as with the Presidential staff. What I'm leading up to is that I'm trying to find someone to succeed me, and I can't think of a better candidate for the Directorship than you."

Aaron was stunned. "Me, sir?" was all he could manage after about ten seconds.

Finch laughed. "Yes, _you_. What do you think, Aaron? Are you interested?"


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the long delay - it's been a busy summer, but here at last is Chapter 8! As always, comments welcome...

* * *

Aaron tried frantically to think of a diplomatic response, but he could think of nothing to say other than the truth. "Sir, I'm overwhelmed. I really am, but I honestly don't think I can take the job."

The Director looked puzzled. "Why not, Aaron?"

"For one thing, my wife and I have been talking about retiring. More than just talking, we've bought some property and we're planning to move. My benefits will be fully vested in about two years and that's our target date."

Finch looked disappointed. "Well, plans can be changed, Aaron. Why don't you talk it over with your wife and let me know? Take some time to think about it."

"I'll do that, sir, thank you. I really appreciate your offering me the job – it's something I never expected."

"I can't think of anyone who deserves it more than you do, Aaron, and I know you'd do it well. I hope you change your mind." Finch offered another handshake and the interview was over.

Aaron's mind was in a whirl as he walked back to his office. He, the Director of the Secret Service? He had to admit it was a tempting thought, but he forced himself to step back and consider the idea as impartially as possible. Sitting down at his desk, he closed his eyes and mentally reviewed the Director's responsibilities, which had become more familiar to him in the months since his promotion. With distaste he recalled the multiple committee meetings chaired by Finch that he'd had to sit through, and the drama surrounding the annual budget meeting. (Returning from a stressful session with Congress, Finch had once said to him: "These guys vote money for bridges to nowhere but they can't be bothered to pay for law enforcement or Presidential protection. Give me a break.")

Recalling the years he'd spent as a working agent guarding those he'd been called on to protect, Aaron felt a twinge of nostalgia. He rarely got a chance to work in the field any more, and when he did it was by special request from the President. Once it had been his job. Now it was more of a ritual. He preferred being on the front lines, staying alert, watching for any action that might hint at an attack. He thought of his first few months after promotion, struggling to become comfortable with his new duties: the public speaking, the committees he'd had to join, even the social events he'd been expected to attend. _Thank God for Martha,_ he thought devoutly. She'd made the adjustment to his new job so much easier. Even before they'd married she'd always been there for him, encouraging him, listening to his doubts and worries and making helpful suggestions; her presence had livened up many a Service dinner, and she had become a general favorite among his co-workers. _We're a team,_ he thought. _It isn't just my decision, it's her decision too._ He wanted desperately to talk to her, to share the news and to discuss it with her. Email would not do for this, nor would the telephone…

"Aaron! Hello? You fall asleep or something?" A puzzled Jon Cardona was standing in front of him.

Aaron snapped out of his reverie. "No, no, Jon. I was thinking about something. Sorry."

"Did you get a chance to review that file I sent you?"

"File? Not yet. I was in a meeting with Director Finch," Aaron explained quickly, hoping to ward off further questioning.

"Oh. Well, can you take a look at it now? I need to make sure it's got your okay before I submit it to the head honcho."

Aaron pulled up the file, took a cursory glance at it and nodded. "Fine, it looks fine." He intercepted a hurt look from his friend and apologized. "Sorry, Jon. I can't keep my mind on anything right now. Something big happened in that meeting and I just can't concentrate."

"Is everything all right?" Jon looked concerned.

"Yeah. Look, you free for lunch? I'd like to talk to you about it."

"Sure. If you want someplace quiet, let's go to the Deli."

"The Deli" was a sandwich shop located a few blocks from the Service building. Most of its business was takeout but a few seats at the back, blocked by a partition and not easily seen, were usually empty. For this reason, and because the Deli's sandwiches and coffee were excellent, the back room had become a favorite meeting place for those who knew about it: usually Service agents, FBI agents or the occasional congressman.

Cardona gave Aaron a few minutes to start his sandwich and collect his thoughts before opening the conversation. "Okay, talk to me, Aaron. Did they cut our budget in half?"

Aaron chuckled. "No, nothing like that, Jon. You've still got a job. But everything I'm telling you is confidential. I need you not to repeat this."

Jon's eyes narrowed slightly. "Okay."

"That meeting this morning…" Aaron was keeping his voice as low as possible. "When I got there it wasn't just the Director. Attorney General Haslett was there too."

"Haslett?" Jon thought for a second. "Is it about the Logan case?"

"No, I thought that too, but it wasn't. It – you're not going to believe this. He wants to know if I'm interested in taking over as Director after he leaves."

Cardona stared at him. "He wants you to be the Director?" He drew in breath for a whoop of joy, but was stopped by Aaron's outstretched palm.

"Not so fast. I was thinking it over when you came into my office, and I'm not so sure I want the job."

Jon gave him an incredulous look, but then his expression changed. He leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. "I can see that. You've never been a limelight sort of person, Aaron. You like it better under the radar." He waited for Aaron's nod, then continued: "But I think you'd be a good choice. You never really got the credit you should've gotten for everything you've done. Not until after the Logan thing blew up. If the Director finally figured that out, good for him." He paused to take a bite of his sandwich. "Just don't decide this in a hurry, okay?"

* * *

Martha, halfway through the book tour, now felt as though she was being dragged through a funhouse hall of mirrors. Every interviewer seemed to be interpreting her and _Finding My Self_ from a different angle, and most of their views were distorted. One antagonistic interviewer had asked her: "So what you're really saying is, all you have to do to be happy is find Mr. Right and get a job. Is that it?"

"Of course not. To be happy you have to find something that gives your life meaning. And the truth is, most meaningful things like relationships need commitment and work. Haven't you found that out for yourself?" she'd retorted, and won applause from the audience. Nevertheless the strain of the tour was beginning to wear on her; the success of _Finding My Self_ had made her the "Story of the Month," as Martin Andrews put it. Her triumph over her emotional instability, the part she'd played in bringing down Charles Logan, and her decision to reveal to the public that she'd had an abortion were all playing into this phenomenon. The heavy attendance at her signings and talks convinced Martin to call the publisher and extend the tour for another week.

Martha was upset to hear this, but she guarded her tongue and tried not to complain. She knew the strain of the trip was telling on Angie as well. In her frequent phone conversations with Aaron, she downplayed her annoyance and tried to emphasize safer topics like the book's sales. She also promised that she was following every one of Angie's safety recommendations.

"You don't sound happy," he answered quietly. "I can hear it in your voice."

Martha's longing to be with him closed her throat for a moment. "I miss you," she managed to whisper. "And I'm tired. But we're all tired, and I don't feel like I have the right to complain. They're treating me well, Aaron, they really are. I just wish it was over."

"It will be soon. I love you," he answered, and ended the call determined to carry out the plan he'd formed the day Finch offered him the Directorship. Dialing another number, he waited for an answer:

"Angie? I need your schedule. You guys going to stay anyplace for two nights? …Chicago?"

* * *

Against her better judgment, Martha had agreed to an interview with Adam Klingman, the talk-show host Elinor had described unkindly as a "conspiracy nut." When they met in the greenroom prior to the interview she found his questions sharp and intelligent but his manner nothing short of brusque. "I don't have no-go areas in interviews," he told her bluntly. "I thought your book was quite good, but it left a lot of questions unanswered. I've got some theories about the attacks and the Palmer assassination I want to run past you."

"All right," Martha answered cautiously, "but the truth is I don't know that much about the conspiracy. I did my best to tell what happened from my point of view. I researched and reconstructed as much as I could. I don't really think there's a lot more I can tell you that isn't in the book."

Klingman gave her a skeptical look and shrugged. "We'll see. Here's my first question: You didn't know your husband wanted Palmer dead? You had no idea what was going on until he told you he was behind all this?"

"David Palmer was one of my best friends. Believe me, if I'd had any idea that he was going to be killed or that Charles was behind it I would have found some way to warn him."

"One of your best friends," Klingman repeated. "Is that all he was to you?"

"_What are you saying?_"

"I'm saying that it makes more sense to me that Logan would have ordered Palmer's death if he were jealous. Whether or not he had cause," he added hastily. "Considering what a jerk Logan turned out to be, I'm sure nobody would blame you."

In a rage, Martha bit off her next words. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. You read my book, you followed the reports in the press, you know what happened. David Palmer found out what Charles was trying to do, and Charles was desperate to stop him. He didn't _need_ another reason to have David killed. What about the attack at the Moscow Embassy? Do you think that was engineered by jealous terrorists?"

"No, of course not. I'm sure there was more than one motivation behind all this –"

"I'm not interested in hearing your theories, Mr. Klingman. I've had enough. There isn't going to be any interview, and I'm leaving the studio right now." Martha got up, stalked over to Angie and muttered, "Let's get out of here before I hit him."

"I'll hit him for you if you want. The nerve of that guy!" As they headed to the studio exit, an alarmed Martin Andrews hastened after them. He blanched when Angie told him what had happened:

"My God, Martha, I can't believe it. I thought an interview with him would be interesting, that he'd bring something different to the table –"

"He sure as hell did."

Andrews sighed. "What about the signing? Do you think you can manage that?"

"Yes, I'll do the signing. I don't want to disappoint people. But after that, you know what? It's my birthday and I am going to go back to the hotel and I do not want to be disturbed until tomorrow morning."

"You won't be. At least, not by us," Angie couldn't help adding, but Martha paid no attention to this last comment. Her underlying anger gave her the energy she needed to get through the afternoon's signing, but as she returned to the hotel her defenses dissolved and she gave way to self-pity. _I'm spending my birthday in a hotel room by myself, getting asked stupid questions by people who want to smear David's reputation. Why am I doing this?_ she thought, slumping into the room. Throwing her purse on the bed, she looked up and met the eyes of the only person in the world she wanted to see at that moment: her husband.

Her woebegone look melted Aaron's heart. "Martha," he began, holding out his arms, but before he could say anything more she threw herself into them, holding him tightly.

"Aaron! Thank God." She savored the feeling of his arms around her, unable to say anything else for several minutes. Finally she pulled back, staring into his face unbelievingly.

"How did you get here? It's like a miracle."

Aaron smiled. "Nothing miraculous about it. I missed you, and I knew you were having a tough time. I wanted to cheer you up. I'm here for two nights. How does that sound?"

Martha's face lit up. "Wonderful! I'm so glad you're here, Aaron."

Aaron slid an arm around his wife's waist and led her to the sofa. "Bad day today?"

"Yes, but it's over. I actually walked out on an interview today, the guy was just too awful."

Aaron grimaced. "You've got how many more days of this?"

"Nine. But now that you're here I know I can get through it. It hasn't just been the tour, Aaron – Angie told me last week that she and Marie are moving to Philadelphia."

"Moving! When?"

"They don't know yet. I think Marie is still interviewing for jobs, and they have to sell their house, of course. But Marie's parents aren't well and she wants to be closer to them."

"I know her father had surgery last year. She and Angie were both worried about him. I can see why they're doing it, but that's going to be tough on you."

"I'm going to miss Angie a lot. She's been a good friend to both of us. But I've been thinking it over and the truth is things aren't nearly as hectic as they were the first year. I haven't really needed her full-time the last few months, but I didn't want to cut back her hours. And of course when we move, she wouldn't have gone with us anyway. So it would have happened sooner or later, but it was a shock to hear it in the middle of the tour."

Aaron handed her the room service menu. "Well, I've got some other news for you, but let's order dinner first." A few minutes later, this chore attended to, he settled back on the sofa. "Remember I was scheduled to have my performance review the week after you left?"

"Yes. Did it go all right?"

"It went fine. But I got more than I expected." He took a deep breath. "Director Finch is thinking about retiring, and he wants me to take over the directorship when he does."

Martha stared at him, stunned. "He does? _Aaron!_" She searched his face. "I'm so happy he offered it to you. But do you want it?"

"That's why I wanted to talk to you." Aaron sighed. "I've given it a lot of thought and I don't think I do. It isn't just what it would do to our retirement plans, I've seen what Finch has to go through every day. Take everything I do, multiply it by five, and that's what being Director is like. The budget meetings alone are enough to make me want to say no. But Finch made it clear I'm his first choice and I can't help thinking: is it my duty to do this? Do I owe it to --"

"Aaron, you don't owe anyone anything. You've done everything they ever asked you to do. You've risked your life many times, you even sacrificed your first marriage to your job. The questions you should be asking yourself are: would I enjoy being Director? Would it be a challenge or a burden? Because something can be difficult and still be worth doing. Going on this book tour is a challenge. Being First Lady was a burden."

Her husband smiled. "This is what I needed to hear. I was afraid you'd be disappointed if I turned it down, Martha. You've been such a huge help to me, I wanted you to have a voice in this."

She kissed him. "Having the sense to turn down a job that wouldn't be right for you isn't going to disappoint me. Remember when you and Nathan were talking and you told him that life's too short not to spend it doing something you enjoy? That might be the best advice you ever gave him. Now I want you to follow your own advice." A knock on the door cut the conversation short as Room Service appeared with their meal.

After dinner Aaron beckoned her into the bathroom. "Come in here. I want you to see something." Curious, Martha followed him in and gasped.

"This is the biggest bathtub I've ever seen! It's big enough for --"

"Two people?" Aaron finished with a grin. "Happy birthday."

Several minutes later: "What did you call this thing?"

"A loofah. It's sort of like a sponge."

"What's it for?"

"Turn around and I'll show you." Martha began scrubbing his back. "How's that feel?"

"Mmm. It feels great. I think we should get one."

"I think when we move, we should get a bathtub like this. We could take baths like this every night."

Aaron laughed. "We'd shock the entire town, but it would be worth it. The bathroom really does need some work; maybe we could get one of these tubs when we fix it up. I'm going to ask Nathan for some of his ideas for the house after he's been there for a while." He took the loofah from her and began washing her back. "Now relax. It's your turn to get scrubbed down." As his hands slipped over her torso, Martha sighed and relaxed against him.

"I want to get you out of this tub and into the bedroom. But you can finish doing my back first," she murmured, kissing his chest and working her way up to his neck.

* * *

Nathan tripped over one of the many boxes still sitting in the hallway of the ranch house and cursed under his breath. Except for one suitcase he had not yet unpacked and the bedroom he had chosen was littered with clothing. _Clothes hangers,_ he thought, making a mental note to put them on his errand list. He had not wanted to move into the master bedroom, feeling vaguely that it should be reserved for his father and Martha; instead he had chosen the only other room facing the front of the house and the road. This was due to the urging of his mother, worried at the thought of her son living alone on the ranch. By now Nathan had heard every story of crimes commited against isolated ranchers in the past decade and had no desire to hear them again. He had even half-promised her that he would get a dog, though he had argued that he had no time to take care of one while he was still settling in from the move.

The house so far contained a mixture of castoff furniture donated by Diane and the Pierces, a few pieces Nathan had picked up at thrift stores and a futon parked in the corner of the bedroom. His guitar, the first thing Nathan had unpacked, leaned against the bedroom wall. Hastening back downstairs, Nathan scribbled "clothes hangers" at the bottom of his errand list and grabbed his keys. Bill Pierce had found a reliable secondhand truck for sale in the area and recommended it to Nathan, who had promptly bought it and now was secretly thrilled to have his own truck. He had decided to spend the months until his father's next visit working on the Pierce ranch and restricting his activities at home to basic maintenance. Aaron and Martha were planning to spend their next vacation in Texas; they would go into conference then to make more detailed plans.

Having completed his errands, Nathan headed out of town en route to dinner with his mother and Artie - a ritual he went through twice a week. He and his quasi-stepfather were now on more comfortable terms as long as the conversation centered around cars, what had happened at work that day or stories of life in the Navy. Artie had become deeply interested in the question of Nathan's future plans: the contrast between his stepson's former tightly scheduled life and his new freedom of choice seemed to have fired his imagination. One of his early suggestions was one that Nathan was considering seriously: enrolling at the local college.

Lupe Hernandez had often been in Nathan's thoughts since his return to Ambler Grove. He had been surprised to see that she had not been working in the hardware store the last time he had been in on an errand. As Nathan wondered where she could be, he suddenly realized that she was standing at the side of the road next to her car with a worried look on her face. He quickly pulled over and ran back.

"I'm Nathan Pierce. Remember me? I saw you at the store a few months ago." He pulled off his hat as he spoke and Lupe's face lit up as she saw the flash of red hair.

"Yes, I remember. You said you were coming back to live here. Are you here to stay?"

"My father bought a ranch about half an hour out of town and I'm living there, sort of house sitting for him. I just got back last week." He looked at her car. "Is something wrong?"

"It started all right but then it quit on me. And it's getting dark, and this is a lonely part of town..." she shivered, looking around.

"I'll pop the hood and take a look if you want. I'm no genius with cars but if it's something simple maybe I can fix it."

"That would be wonderful, Nathan. I did call my brother but he can't get here for another fifteen minutes. Even if you can't fix the car, if you could stick around I'd really appreciate it." Again she looked around almost fearfully; when Nathan had opened the hood and poked around the engine for a few minutes, he understood why.

"Lupe, your transmission fluid is nearly gone." He looked under the car and saw the fluid pooling underneath. "This valve here, see, it's loose. I've got some extra fluid in the truck. Let's get that in there and then I think the car will start." Nathan quickly poured the fluid in, tightened the valve and stood back. "Start the engine." The truck roared to life. Lupe lowered the window and leaned out to thank him, but he had moved back to the engine and was frowning down at it. Walking back to her, he said quietly: "I don't really see how it could have come loose on its own."

Lupe looked angry. "It probably didn't." Nathan looked at her quickly, but she said nothing further. Feeling her nervousness, he scanned the area. "I don't see why--" he began, and then stopped as another car pulled up.

"That's Tony. I'll be all right now, Nathan, thank you."

Feeling himself dismissed, Nathan shook hands with Lupe's brother and got back into the truck thoughtfully. As he pulled away he looked into the rearview mirror; Lupe and her brother were talking intently. He did not notice the car parked on the opposite side of the street which had followed Lupe at a distance, or the fact that its headlights came on only after he had left.


	9. Chapter 9

This is the Catching Up with Minor Characters chapter. :-) The book tour is finally over and we are moving toward switching the center of the action to Texas. As always, comments are welcome.

* * *

Jennifer abandoned her suitcase in the hall and ran to embrace her cousin. "Nathan, it's so good to see you! Are you here to stay?"

Nathan returned her hug. "I am for now, at least till Dad and Em move back to town. How are you doing, Jen? Is this design school thing working out for you?"

"It's great. It's incredibly exciting, Nathan. Just being around people who know why I want to do this for a living makes me feel like I made the right decision. The teachers are great at explaining things, they like my work and I'm getting a whole bunch of new ideas from the designers that come to the school through the lecture program. I'm starting a summer internship at Neiman-Marcus next week with Em's friend Mr. Roston. So I came home for a few days to see Mom and Dad before I go back to Dallas. I'm so happy," Jen finished breathlessly, her face lighting up.

Nathan had always thought of Jennifer as his nearest substitute for a younger sister and was delighted to see her enthusiasm. "That's fantastic. You know what you want to do and you're doing it. That's the best there is, Jen. You're really lucky; I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do, but now that I'm here I think I'm on the right track to finding that out."

"Good. I'm so glad you're back, Nathan. How does it feel being out of the Navy?" she added tentatively.

Her cousin shrugged. "At first it felt weird, but it didn't take long to get used to it. Right now I'm helping your dad here and just sort of looking around to see what my options are. Dad and Em are coming for a visit in a few months and we're going to work out some plans then, so that gives me a schedule. I'm not going to be just slinging hay for months on end. Whenever I get a chance I try to find someone who's willing to show me how they do things. So far I'm learning about the price of wool, free-range chickens, the crops most people raise around here… all sorts of stuff. The more info I get the better decisions Dad and Em and I can make. The other thing I'm doing is working on the house. It's in pretty good condition but I know Em's going to want to redecorate. If I get time I'm going to get the wallpaper off and the walls prepped. That way, when she gets here, she can choose the paint colors she wants and we can get started on that."

Jennifer raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you're keeping busy. If you're happy that's great, but it would drive me crazy to be doing stuff like that."

"Of course it would, Jen. You've been living here your whole life and it wasn't what you wanted to be doing, anyway. For me everything here is new. I'm learning stuff every day and that keeps it interesting."

"Have you had a chance to see Frank Emerson since you got back?"

"Yeah, he's doing great. But now he's dating that girl, what's her name –"

"Annette Sutherland."

"Right. Well, they're together pretty much all the time now and that leaves me feeling like a third wheel."

"So when are _you_ going to start dating?" Jennifer teased him.

"When I find somebody I want to date." Nathan paused for a second and then, his curiosity overwhelming him, added: "Last time I was here I did meet this one girl. Do you know the Hernandez family at all? The ones that run the hardware store in town?"

"Not really. I mean, I know who they are but they were all way ahead of me in school. Who'd you meet?"

"Lupe, the owner's daughter. She was working there when I ran in to get supplies for your dad. She's gorgeous."

Jennifer gave him a grin. "Want me to ask about her for you? See what I can find out?"

Trying to appear nonchalant, Nathan hesitated for a moment but then realized that Jennifer would be his best source of information about Lupe. He threw caution to the winds. "Yes, do that. Let me know anything you find out. But please don't tell anybody, Jen."

His cousin sniffed. "Hey, I can be subtle. I have to work with artistic types, remember?"

"Okay, you're a born diplomat. I appreciate it, Jen, I really do." Throwing an arm around her shoulders, Nathan added, "Now let's go find Grandma. I know she wants to see you."

* * *

The end of the book tour had left Martha both elated and exhausted. Determined to give herself some time free of responsibilities, she had given Angie the week off and vowed to Aaron that she would do nothing but watch television and sleep until noon. In the mornings she loved to lie back against the pillows, drink her coffee and sleepily watch her husband get ready for work.

"Which tie should I wear today, Martha? I can't decide between these two."

Martha was finding it difficult to focus on Aaron's choice of ties. "Uh, either one," she managed, blushing as he glanced up and caught her staring at him.

He gave her a teasing smile. "You're not helping."

"Well, you're distracting me. Standing there with no clothes on, and you expect me to look at _ties_?"

"Should I put a robe on?"

"No no no! Don't put yourself to that trouble." She hauled herself upright and reached out for the ties. "Aaron, these are almost exactly alike. They're both dark blue."

"But this one has a little red pattern, and the other one has green."

"Red," Martha answered at random. "I'd go with the red. What you really need is a tie with flamingoes. Something that stands out." She laughed out loud as Aaron gave her a horrified look. "I'm going to buy you some more exciting ties this week, but I promise no flamingoes."

Martha's first two days home were everything she had hoped for: she read, napped, did crosswords and laundry and spoke to no one except Aaron. Unfortunately, on Day Three she suddenly realized that she had absolutely no interest in finishing her book, watching television or soaking in the tub. On a whim she picked up the phone and called Jane to see if her wedding plans were finished.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the line was Mike Novick.

"Mike? Is that you?"

"Yes, Martha, it is. How are you? Still recovering from that book tour?"

"I certainly am. I feel like a truck hit me, but I'm finally getting some energy back. How about you? How are the wedding plans coming along?"

"I think they're going fine, but Jane might beg to differ. I have to tell you, Martha, I've never looked forward to anything as much as marrying Jane. I want this wedding to be really special."

"It'll be special no matter what the two of you choose to do. Is Jane frazzled? Exactly how elaborate is this wedding going to be? I know she didn't want anything too fancy."

"Well, we've been negotiating. She's come around to the idea of having a bigger wedding, and I think we've struck some sort of happy medium. We both want people there who matter to us. The problem is that there's so many of them."

"Jane told me you've handled a lot of the planning. I know she appreciates it, Mike."

Novick chuckled. "I spend my lunch hours looking at stationery choices and pricing caterers now. It's certainly been interesting. I guess I was clueless about this sort of thing, but it's astounding how much money goes into weddings. I had no idea it was such a big industry."

"Astounding," Martha agreed with a straight face. "Just remember, Mike, if you change your mind there's always City Hall instead. Look, I've got some free time right now and if you need any help I'd be happy to give you a hand."

"That's very sweet of you, Martha. Tell you what. Why don't you stop by tonight if you've got the time? I think both Jane and I could use a third party to bounce ideas off, and we'd love to see you."

"I'll do that, Mike. I'll see you after dinner."

* * *

That evening found Martha trying to tidy the couch in Jane's apartment, which was half covered in guest lists and caterers' menus. Mike was pacing around the room throwing out ideas and Jane was variously scribbling notes, debating with Mike and asking Martha for her opinion.

"I don't see why we can't use corkscrews for the wedding favors. They're something people will use, and they aren't expensive."

"Well, we _could_," Jane answered. "It's just that I really liked the personalized bottled water. Could you take a look at the seating chart, Martha? I think we've avoided most of the big pitfalls, but if you think we've missed anything let me know."

Martha was slightly surprised at this attention to detail. "What about the other stuff? The band, the caterer…"

"That's all taken care of, except maybe for some of the appetizer choices," Mike answered briskly.

"Honeymoon?"

"We're going to this place Mike knows about in the Bahamas." Jane beamed. "It sounds wonderful."

"I went there years ago on a business trip and I've always wanted to go back. It was beautiful, and incredibly quiet. I've been wanting to take Jane there for ages." Mike looked fondly at Jane.

_They're perfect for each other,_ Martha realized. It would never have occurred to her or Aaron to worry about wedding favors or seating charts, but it was clear that Mike and Jane's wedding would mean as much to them as hers and Aaron's had to her. "It looks to me like you hardly need any help at all," she said, smiling. "You've got every detail nailed down."

Mike took a deep breath. "Well, maybe we're further ahead than we thought we were. We've got to get the invitations out in the next week or two."

"I can help with that," Martha said promptly. "And Jane, your dress? If you need me to come to the fittings, let me know." Jane accepted this offer gratefully. By the time Martha left a few minutes later she was nearly as excited about the wedding as Mike and Jane, and she hurried home eager to share their plans with Aaron.

* * *

Thinking about her promise to Nathan, Jennifer now found herself wondering whom she should ask for information about Lupe Hernandez. Aunt Barbara would probably have been the best and easiest source of information, but Jennifer immediately rejected this idea: Barbara would want to know why she was asking, and putting two and two together would realize that it was Nathan who was interested. What about someone who worked in town? Suddenly Jennifer remembered Bridget Ames, a friend of hers from high school whose father owned a drugstore two doors down from Hernandez Hardware. Bridget was working at the drugstore part-time to pay for her college courses.

"So what's new?" Jennifer had gone into town to visit Bridget, being careful to ask her father first if he needed anything from the hardware store.

Bridget shrugged. "Oh, nothing really. School's going okay, but it's not the same as high school. Most of the students are commuters and they just go to class and leave. It isn't very social there. But being in town is great. Dad's been having me go to some of the town meetings because he's afraid they're going to raise taxes again, and I really like it. One of these days I might run for office." She grinned.

"You'd be good at it, Bridget. You did a lot of stuff on Student Council, I bet it's not that different." Jennifer indicated the entrance to Hernandez Hardware. "Do you mind if we drop in here for a minute? I need to get some stuff for my dad."

Once inside the store Jennifer looked around curiously and soon saw a woman a few years older than herself wearing an apron printed with the store's logo. She stood with a clipboard, seemingly engrossed in the task of taking inventory, until she looked up and caught Jennifer staring at her. Realizing this must be Lupe, Jennifer blushed and looked away, wondering how to steer the conversation toward the Hernandezes. Taking her cue from Bridget's earlier conversation, she began to ask about the other business owners in town and if they also attended council meetings. To her delight, the Hernandez business was the first one Bridget named and Jennifer was soon able to ask direct questions about the family.

In Aisle Three Lupe had been stocking the shelves but paused, listening to the conversation coming from the next aisle:

"My dad talks to Mr. Hernandez a lot about taxes and business regulations, stuff like that. He says he's a good guy. His wife died two years ago, I think she had a heart problem. He has a daughter, her name's Lupe, and two sons. The older one's name is Tony. He's kinda cute. Lupe used to work in El Paso for a while but she moved back here after Mrs. Hernandez died to take care of her dad. Dad talks to Mr. Hernandez once in a while, and I think she went through some sort of bad relationship with a guy that had him worried–"

Lupe lost her grip on the box she was carrying and dropped it, scattering nails everywhere. "Damn," she muttered as the voices stopped. Heading to the cash register to pick up a broom and dustpan, she saw Jennifer making her purchase with a credit card. By the time she had cleaned up the mess, the two girls had left the store; muttering an excuse to her father, she reached into the register to read the name on the receipt.

"_Pierce_?" Her eyes narrowed.

* * *

A few days later it was Nathan's turn to go into town. He entered the store with high hopes, but to his disappointment Lupe was nowhere to be found; though he did not know this, she had gone into the supply room at the back just before he arrived. He completed his purchases and headed for the store's exit. Just as he reached the door, Lupe walked back into the main store area, caught a glimpse of Nathan leaving the store and dashed after him. "I'll be right back, Papa," she called over her shoulder as she sped out of the store.

"Wait!" she called, ignoring the stares of shoppers on the sidewalk. "Nathan!"

Nathan's face lit up as he saw her hurrying toward him – then his expression changed as he saw the look in her eyes. Trying to catch her breath, Lupe demanded: "Who are you? Why are you asking questions about me?"

"I haven't asked any questions about you–" Nathan began, but Lupe cut him off.

"Some girl with the same last name as you _is_. I want to know what this is about. Who is she, your sister?"

Nate sighed. "No. She's my cousin, and I guess she isn't as much of a diplomat as she thought she was. Look, why don't we come over here where we can talk." He gestured her to a nearby bench. "Sit down and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Lupe eyed him suspiciously but finally sat down. "Get started," she ordered. "I have to get back to the store in a few minutes."

"Everything I told you about myself is true. My name is Nathan Pierce, my family's from here and I recently moved back to town. I've been in the Navy for eight years. I finally got tired of it and decided it was time to leave. Right before I got out I was here visiting my uncle and trying to decide what I was going to do with my life. Then one day I was running some errands for him and went into the hardware store… and you were there." He smiled. "I was still on the fence about whether to move here or not, but when I saw you I knew I'd be coming back. Then last week I told my cousin that I'd met this gorgeous girl and I asked if she knew anything about you – she's lived here all her life. She said no, but that she'd check around for me and see what she could find out."

"That's it?"

"That's it. I know it sounds silly, but come on, Lupe, you must have done the same sort of thing yourself. Haven't you ever met somebody and wanted to find out more about them?"

"Of course. But this isn't high school any more, Nathan. And we're not teenagers. Why didn't you just ask me?"

"For one thing, I haven't been able to find you. The only time I've seen you since I got back until today was the day your car broke down." He noted the troubled look that stole over her face. "And for another, I got the feeling that if I asked you everything I wanted to know I'd probably scare you off."

She glanced at him curiously. "Like what?"

"Like what your favorite color is. Whether you like guitar music. What your plans for the future are." He took a deep breath. "Are you dating anybody? Little things like that."

Lupe finally gave him a genuine smile. "You want to know all those things, and it's only the third time you've seen me?"

"The first time was enough." As she finally relaxed, he asked quietly: "I have one more question. Are you in some kind of trouble, Lupe?"

She tensed again. Looking down, she answered slowly: "Not exactly. It's nothing I've done."

"Can I help?"

"My family looks out for me. I don't go anywhere alone anymore, not since the day you helped me with the car. Maybe I'm overreacting, but I feel safer that way."

Nathan frowned. "Safer?" He was about to ask another question, but was interrupted by an impatient voice: "Lupe!"

Lupe jumped up. "Papa, I'm sorry –"

"We need you back in the store. I can't keep running the register myself!" Giving Nathan a suspicious glance, Lupe's father turned and hurried back into the store.

"I have to go." Lupe began to move away, then turned around. "I'll answer one of your questions. I'm not dating anybody." She flashed him a smile and walked back toward the store.

"What time do you get off work tonight?" Nathan asked, following her.

"Six thirty."

"I'll be here, and I'm buying you dinner. Tell your dad I'll drive you home."


	10. Chapter 10

This chapter alternates between father and son, Aaron and Nathan Pierce. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

"Yellow."

Nathan blinked. "What?" He felt mildly dazed, still not quite believing that Lupe had agreed to have dinner with him. Mentally he shook himself to pay attention.

"My favorite color? It's yellow."

"Ah. And do you like guitar music?"

"Yes, if it's good."

He raised an eyebrow. "We might have a problem then," he responded, and enjoyed her quick laugh. "I play at a coffeehouse on Saturdays, but they pay me in coffee drinks, not in cash. You can come to hear me if you'd like."

"Do you sing?"

"No, I know my limits. I do classical guitar mostly. The occasional instrumental piece that's more modern, but that's about it." He took a bite of his dinner. "What about my other question? Your plans for the future?" He waited for a moment. "Let me put that another way. Do you see yourself staying in Ambler Grove?"

Lupe considered. "Yes. When I moved to El Paso I was really looking forward to living on my own. It isn't the biggest city on earth, but I knew it would be a change from here. I liked it there; the different neighborhoods, the museums, restaurants and everything else. When my mother got sick I had to come back, which I didn't want to do. But when I got here I didn't mind it as much as I thought I would, and after she died I knew I wouldn't be leaving again. It's home. It isn't exciting here but it isn't dull either. And I like spending time with my friends from school, getting to see their kids grow up. It's so much harder to do that in the city." She looked at Nathan. "How about you? Are you climbing the walls yet?"

Nathan laughed and shook his head. "No, I feel like you. I didn't want to stay in Washington, even though I could have. I wanted to live somewhere where I had roots. My mother is here, my cousins and my father's family are here. My dad will be moving back soon. When I moved here I knew I had a choice. I wasn't planning to stay the rest of my life but the longer I'm here, the more I like it." He smiled at Lupe.

The waiter filling their glasses glanced at Lupe, did a double take and gave Nathan a suspicious look. Lupe frowned and waved him away.

"Someone you know?"

"Yes," she replied shortly. "He's a friend of my brother's."

"Small towns, huh? You can't go out without running into someone you know." He gave her a second look. "Is that a problem?"

"No, not really. It's just that he's probably going to tell my brother he saw me in a restaurant with you." She saw the incomprehension on his face. "I hate to say this, Nathan, but around here it's not so usual for Latinas to date white guys. You're supposed to stay within your comfort zone."

Nathan frowned. "Is there a race problem around here? I never got that impression."

"Not exactly. But it's understood that whites stick to whites and, well, my people stick to each other. It's just the way it's always been."

"Not in the Navy. There's lots of interracial dating going on there. Nobody cares."

"This isn't the Navy, Nathan, it's a small town."

"Then why did you agree to come out with me?"

"Because I like you. You're a nice guy, I could tell that from the start. And because I followed my own advice and I got burned." Her expression darkened. "And I'm sick of hiding at home with my family," she added.

"Tell me what happened. This trouble you're in, the reason you've been staying with your family—"

Lupe sighed. "There was this guy, Jorge. I met him after I came home when my mother got sick. At first he seemed perfect, so involved, understanding that my mother came first. But after a while I started to see how controlling he was. He wanted me to be either with my family or with him, all the time. If I went to see my girlfriends he would get really upset. If he didn't know where I was, even if I just went to the store, he'd get angry. We started to fight a lot and he'd curse me out, calling me a whore, saying terrible things. Then he started hitting me. The first time he apologized and I took him back. The second time I broke down and told my father what was going on. Papa was furious. He said if Jorge ever hit me again he'd kill him."

Nathan suddenly realized he was gripping the edge of the table. "So then what happened?"

"I told Jorge I wasn't going to see him any more, that it was over, and my father backed me up. I thought that would be the end of it, but it wasn't. He's been following me. I see him sometimes, watching me from a distance. I guess he wants to see if I'm dating somebody else. When my car broke down and you said someone had loosened the transmission cap I got really scared. I knew it had to be him."

"Has anything else happened since then?"

"Not so far. Like I said, I've been playing it safe." She shrugged. "It's not something I like to think about, but I wanted to tell you. I wanted to explain what's been happening."

Taking her hint, Nathan changed the subject and began asking her about the local college, telling her that he wanted to enroll for his degree. Immediately Lupe became more cheerful and told him about one of her friends who had taken classes there. Dinner concluded without incident. As Nathan said goodnight to Lupe he added: "I'll be at the Yellow Rose on Saturday. I start playing at eight. Nobody can say you're dating me if you just happen to drop in. Right?"

She smiled. "Right. Thank you, Nathan." She gave him her hand. "Dinner was fun and I'll be there on Saturday." As Nathan was wondering whether to kiss her goodnight, the door opened and Mr. Hernandez appeared in the doorway. Lupe gave his hand a quick squeeze and then headed toward the house.

* * *

During a long and somewhat difficult meeting Aaron had made it clear to Director Finch that he had no wish to take over as the head of the Secret Service, while indicating that he was more than willing to work with whoever was chosen for the job. His diplomacy was stretched to the limit, however, when the Director told him who his second choice was: Agent Eric McFadden.

"Agent McFadden, sir?"

Finch sighed. "You can't deny, Aaron, the man is reliable. His administrative skills are first class. What he doesn't have, and what I need you to help him with, is the personal touch. He needs better communications skills."

_That's because he's a bureaucrat who's never seen what it's like out in the field,_ Aaron thought. Externally, he managed a quiet "Yes, sir."

"I know you think this isn't a great choice, Aaron. But he's got the qualifications and he's got the seniority. You're both play-by-the rules types, and on paper he maybe looks better than you do, but you have leadership qualities he doesn't have. I'm being completely honest here: My gut told me to pick you, but if I'd gone only by the rules I would have picked him. The men respect you, Aaron. They know you know what it's like to put your life on the line."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I really am. I don't want you to think I didn't think about your offer, because I did. But finally I realized that being Director wouldn't be a challenge for me, it would be a burden. It really wasn't something I was looking for." _Thank you, Martha,_ he thought as he saw Finch nod in understanding: it was her advice that had clinched his argument.

"Okay. Then I'm going to ask you that for the next year, until I step down, you agree to work with McFadden as closely as possible. I need you to pass those qualities on to him as much as you can."

"I will, sir, but does he understand that?"

"He will. I'm meeting with him this afternoon and I'm offering him the position of Director. He isn't going to turn it down, we both know that. I'm going to make it clear that it's a contingency that he works with you or he doesn't get the job."

_Great._ "Yes, sir."

Aaron and Eric McFadden had known each other for more than a decade. Neither had a high opinion of the other: Aaron thought McFadden was an officious ass, whereas McFadden viewed Aaron as a run-of-the-mill agent who had spent all of his time in the field: brave, naturally, and dedicated, but not really leadership material. Aaron knew that McFadden had been somewhat surprised by his promotion and could only imagine how he would react if he knew that Aaron had been Finch's first pick for Director. Unfortunately, McFadden was about to hear exactly that:

"Good of you to come in, Eric."

"It's no difficulty, Director," McFadden responded briskly. "I've brought the figures for the first draft of the budget with me. I assumed that was what you wanted to discuss?"

"No, no, actually I wanted to talk to you about something else. I'm assuming the rumors about me stepping down have begun to spread by this time."

McFadden looked self-conscious. "Well, sir, I had heard it was a possibility. But there's been no confirmation." He looked expectant.

"I'm confirming it. That's why I asked you here. Naturally, there's going to be a need for a new Director for the Service –"

"Naturally, sir." McFadden's satisfied expression was beginning to rub Finch the wrong way.

"But I'll be honest: You were not my first choice. Unfortunately, Agent Pierce was unable to accept my offer for personal reasons."

McFadden's jaw dropped. "_Pierce_, sir?"

"Yes, Pierce. His administrative skills are not as highly polished as yours, but he has a great deal of field experience and he's a natural leader. He handled the Logan case brilliantly, I'm sure you'll agree."

"With all due respect, sir, Pierce had an additional motive for going after Logan."

"He did," Finch admitted. "After all, Logan tried to have him assassinated. But if you're referring to the fact that Pierce married Logan's ex-wife, there is zero evidence that they had any sort of relationship prior to Logan's arrest. There was never a whisper of one. And I have known Aaron Pierce for many years, and I am sure that he would never have done something so unprofessional as to initiate an affair with a President's wife." He gave McFadden a hard look.

"No, sir, no, of course not."

"Aaron has agreed to work with you for the next year or so before I leave. He did this at my request, Eric. If you're going to be Director you need to have a good relationship with the agents you'll be leading, and I believe Aaron Pierce is the man to help you with that." Noting McFadden's lack of enthusiasm, Finch added, "I need you to do this, Eric. I came up through the ranks myself and I can tell you that experience made all the difference when it came to doing this job. Maybe you think being Director is all about putting together a budget and going to meetings. I'm here to tell you that isn't true. That's part of it, but what's most important is working with the agents, understanding what they face every day and motivating them to keep doing it. If you can't do that our turnover will be unbelievable and the Service won't be able to do its job. I'm sure you don't want that."

McFadden looked horrified. "Absolutely not!" he answered hastily. "If you think this is important, Director, I'll be glad to work with Pierce."

Late the next afternoon McFadden wandered into Aaron's office. "Ah, Agent Pierce. Glad to find you in," he began, trying to look as if he had just happened to stop by.

Aaron rose and gestured to a chair. "Take a seat," he said unenthusiastically, closing the door to his office. "What can I do for you?"

"I…" the other agent looked as if he were having difficulty knowing where to start. "I met with Director Finch yesterday. He's asked that we start working together more closely as I prepare to take over as Director." He paused, clearly waiting for Aaron to assent, but received only a silent nod in return. "And I thought now would be a good time to talk about it," he finished lamely.

"All right. I've been giving this some thought, and I'm going to assign Jon Cardona to work with you. He's my second in command. The truth is that I'm going to be retiring myself not that long after the Director steps down, and we need continuity," he added as McFadden opened his mouth to protest. "If both of us leave and you haven't established a relationship with anybody else here, it's going to make your job that much harder."

Seeing the logic of this, McFadden had to agree. "You're retiring?" he added, surprised.

"It's why I couldn't take the job," Aaron answered, but seeing Eric's irritated expression immediately realized this had been a mistake. Trying to change the subject he quickly added, "You came up on the Treasury side, didn't you? It'll be useful to have a connection with someone who does security fieldwork. That's why I thought of Jon."

"Yes, well." Aaron's remark clearly still rankled with Eric. "I was certainly surprised to hear… but it's the Director's choice, of course." His tone made it clear that the only reason Finch had offered the job to Aaron would have had to be temporary insanity.

"I was as surprised as you were," Aaron answered, trying to keep his temper. "It wasn't an offer I expected."

"He made it clear that the agents have a lot of respect for you. And he made it clear… that I have to work on that." McFadden was clearly trying to be honest. "I want to do this right. I _have_ to do this right; we're part of Homeland Security now and I take that very seriously. I know I need your help with that. So I guess that's why… I'm _sure_ that's why he offered you the job. But I suppose having connections never hurts."

"What sort of connections?" Aaron fired back.

"Oh, come on, Aaron. Your wife! It never hurts anybody's chances to marry well."

"You think that's what this is about? You think who I married had something to do with this? Well, it did, but not the way you think." Aaron suddenly realized that he was standing behind his desk. "I'm not the world's best administrator and I don't care who knows it. But my wife is a wonderful, gifted woman. She could have had a fantastic career of her own if she hadn't married Logan. When I got promoted she helped me learn what I needed to know. I was very lucky because I had her help and I had a good relationship with the agents here. And you're right, you need that. Nobody succeeds by themselves, haven't you figured that out yet? Hasn't your wife been a help to you in your career?"

McFadden suddenly looked stricken. "No." He looked down for a moment and paused, trying to collect himself. "My wife left me three months ago."

"I didn't hear anything about this," Aaron responded. He slowly sat back down again.

"I didn't tell anyone, didn't want anyone to know."

"I'm sorry."

"I need this job. I need to know that I'm not screwing everything up in my life right now." The desperation in Eric's expression struck a chord with Aaron, bringing back memories of his life after Diane had left.

"I know how you feel. My first marriage ended in divorce." Aaron was feeling his way, impelled to offer McFadden some support. "I'll do everything I can to help you, but I just want to say this: Don't invest your whole life into this job. When it's all said and done, even if you are Director, it's still just a job and someday you will retire. You have to have something else. Family, a cause that you support, close friends, religion – you have to have something else in your life that means something to you."

McFadden nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay. Thanks." He offered his hand and Aaron took it. "I'd like to meet with you and Cardona next week, see what we can work out." He left the office quickly, leaving a shaken Aaron behind.

* * *

Nathan was loath to admit it, but he had polished his boots, ironed his jeans and spent a good fifteen minutes picking out his shirt before arriving at the Yellow Rose. Before beginning to play he checked in with the manager, asking to see his credit account.

"We owe you nine coffees, Nate. You going to drink them all tonight?" chuckled the manager.

"Nope, but I have a friend or two coming in and I wanted to give them a freebie."

"Not a problem."

Nathan settled himself on the stage and scanned the crowd: Lupe was sitting in a booth and he flashed her a grin before realizing there was a man sitting with her. His smile slipped for a moment until he recognized Tony, her brother, who had come to pick Lupe up the day her car had been vandalized. _They're keeping her on a short leash,_ he thought to himself before mentally shrugging and beginning to tune his guitar. _Maybe she needs him to feel safe._ He leaned over to the barista and asked her to get drinks for Lupe and her brother, then turned to the microphone.

"I'm Nathan Pierce. I'm a student of classical guitar and I hope to share my enjoyment of it with you tonight." He gave a quick nod to the audience and began to play; to start off with he had picked two or three standard pieces he knew would be crowd-pleasers. Twenty minutes later he took a brief break and casually wandered over to Lupe's booth.

"How are you tonight?" he asked, nodding to Tony.

"I'm fine, Nathan, thanks." Lupe gave him a warm smile. "Thank you for the drinks. You're doing great."

Nathan gave her a smile in return and glanced at her brother. "We met the other day, right?" he asked. "Nathan Pierce." He held out his hand and after a second's hesitation Tony shook it. "Nice to see you here."

"It was Lupe's idea," Tony responded. Urged on by a glare from his sister, he quickly added: "You play pretty well. Have you been doing this for a while?"

"I'm mostly self taught. I took a few lessons here and there." Between playing sessions, Nathan carried on the conversation and soon learned that Tony had dropped out of college and that his chief interests were cars and farming, specifically growing grapes.

"Grapes?" Nathan echoed, puzzled.

"For wine. There's a few wineries around here that are just getting started and they're all looking for more grapes. A good source of grapes would be worth a lot to them." Tony's face lit with enthusiasm.

"Really? My father bought a ranch outside of town just recently. He's going to be retiring here in a year or two and he's trying to figure out what to do with the land. I'm living there right now and I've been researching a few ideas for him."

By the end of the evening Tony and Nathan had agreed to meet with the owner of one of the local wineries to evaluate the ranchland's suitability for raising grapes and to give Nathan a chance to gather more information. Mellowed by their conversation, Tony decided to leave early, allowing Nathan to drive Lupe home. As he headed through the parking lot toward his car, Tony suddenly found himself grabbed by the shirt and shoved up against a truck.

"Where is she?"

"Jorge, man, what the hell is the matter with you?"

"_Where is she?"_

"She's still in there, she's going home with a friend." Tony pushed the other man away. "What's it got to do with you anyway? You know she doesn't want to see you."

"She's got to see me. I have to make her understand –"

"Understand what? She already knows everything she needs to know. She isn't going to get back with you, Jorge. Get over it." As Tony turned away to head for his car, Jorge threw a punch that hit him on the side of the head and knocked him to his knees. Tony quickly jumped up and got ready to defend himself, but at that moment a crowd of people exited the coffeehouse and Jorge quickly ran into the darkness. Muttering a curse and holding the side of his head, Tony hurried back inside.

"Tony! What happened?" Lupe jumped up.

"I got attacked. It's nothing serious, I'll get some ice when we get home. Lupe, I think you need to come home with me, now. Nathan, I'm going to walk you to your car."

"It was him." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes. He wanted to know why you weren't leaving with me. I told him you were with a friend, but I didn't say who."

"Lupe," said Nathan quietly, "I think you need to get a restraining order against this guy."

"That isn't going to do any good."

"It's better than nothing."

"We can argue about it later," Tony broke in impatiently. "Come on, we need to leave now."

The three of them walked to Nathan's truck. After a defiant glance at Tony, Lupe kissed Nathan on the cheek. "Goodnight. Be careful driving home," she whispered.

"I will. You be careful too; I'll talk to you soon."

Nathan kept an eye on the rear view mirror as he drove home, but no one followed him. _Maybe I should get a dog like Mom said_, he thought as he turned into the driveway. _I'll ask Uncle Bill about it tomorrow_.


	11. Chapter 11

Here's the latest, sort of "Aaron and Martha take a road trip." The plot thickens with Nathan and Lupe as well. Hope you enjoy. As always, comments are welcome.

* * *

"Is that the last of it?"

"That's it." Sweating, Martha dusted her hands off on her jeans and surveyed the empty storage locker with pride. The last of the possessions stored after her hasty move from the White House were stacked in the moving van she and Aaron had rented for their drive to Texas. There was no reason, they had agreed, to pay to keep unused furniture in Washington when Nathan would benefit from it. Martha had even managed to sort a few cartons' worth of items from their current apartment for storage at the ranch.

"Let's go home." Her husband's voice interrupted her thoughts. "We've got an early start tomorrow."

"All right," she sighed. "No argument here. My back is killing me." Taking Aaron's hand, she hoisted herself into the van and they set off for home (detouring for a quick stop at Aaron's favorite pizza parlor). Aaron had requested two weeks' vacation so that they could drive to Texas, leave the furniture at the ranch, spend some time with the family and fly back.

A little while later Martha jerked herself out of a haze of fatigue, pushed the pizza box aside and collected their plates. She rubbed her eyes and managed, "I'm going to take a look at the suitcases. Make sure everything's in."

He gave her an affectionate look. "Take an aspirin and go to bed. I'll get the water and the snacks ready for tomorrow and then I'll be right in. Okay?"

"Okay." She smiled sleepily and headed into the bedroom, appreciating Aaron's ability to read her mind – not that it required any great psychic talent when she was practically falling asleep in her plate. They both had been looking forward to this trip for some time; Aaron especially was relieved to get away from his new boss for two weeks. Martha crawled into bed savoring the knowledge that for the next few days she and her husband would be together with no work concerns to interfere. _It'll be an adventure,_ she thought as she fell asleep.

It was no surprise that Aaron and Martha had opposite approaches to traveling. She had impulsively tossed a camera, CDs and magazines into her travel bag and was constantly digging in it to find what she was looking for; Aaron, ever organized and methodical, had brought binoculars, a list of recommended motels and a stack of road maps several inches thick. He had even packed a small box of basic kitchen utensils: a can opener, corkscrew, chef's knife and a few plates ("If there's no place good to eat in town," he explained, "we can always hit the grocery store"). Instead of clashing, their approaches fused; if Martha suggested a spur-of-the-moment detour to some interesting landmark, Aaron was happy to oblige. Martha, in her turn, was grateful to her husband for having the forethought to bring the kitchen supplies and especially their umbrellas, which came in handy when they were caught in a sudden thunderstorm. When they tired of listening to music they played the driving games they remembered from their childhood:

"_Another_ cemetery? I just lost all my cows again!"

Aaron shook his head. "Bad luck, Martha," he answered in mock sympathy.

"How many have you got?"

"Forty-seven. I think. It's hard to drive and count at the same time."

"Wait. There's seven. I'm back in the game!"

Their long hours on the highway encouraged equally long conversations; one frequent topic was the Director's decision to appoint Eric McFadden as his successor. Martha had met McFadden at a few Service functions and had not liked him much. She was appalled to hear that Finch had chosen him to be the new Director, but steadfastly supported Aaron's choice not to take the job.

"Don't second-guess this, Aaron. You made the right decision for you, and that's all that matters. And it sounds like he's willing to listen to what you have to say."

"I feel bad for Jon, getting him into this," Aaron confessed. "I only have to work with Eric for a year and a half; Jon has to work with him a lot longer than that."

"I don't know, Aaron, it might be an opportunity for him. Jon's an ambitious man, he isn't going to be a field agent forever. Agent McFadden can teach him what he needs to know if he wants to go into administration full time. He might wind up being Director himself some day." As Aaron's expression lightened, Martha silently congratulated herself on this piece of diplomacy.

The only time Martha had spent in the South other than in Texas with Aaron had been during the Keeler/Logan campaign. As they drove further into the South, therefore, her bewilderment grew and Aaron's amusement increased.

"So grits are cereal?"

"They're ground corn. I believe that's a cereal."

"But you don't put sugar on them."

"Never ever. They're more like rice, or potatoes. You know, potatoes with breakfast. You could put cheese in them, or eat them with gravy—"

"Gravy?" Martha shuddered.

"They don't do fruit and yogurt down here much."

"When we move down here, I'm going to gain fifty pounds."

"When we move down here, we're going to be active nearly all of the time. Riding, gardening, walking, working with livestock, you name it. I don't think you have to worry about gaining weight."

It was Martha's turn to brighten. "Okay then. What do you like on your grits?"

"Butter. Lots of it." Martha's squeal of shock made Aaron break into laughter.

* * *

Nathan was now determined to get a guard dog but had decided not to mention it to his uncle since Bill, inclined to quick action, would have found one within a day. _It has to be the right dog,_ he thought. _No puppies._ He found himself looking carefully at every dog in town as he wondered what breed would be best. A few days later, while waiting for Lupe around the corner from Hernandez Hardware, he noticed a large black dog lying in the shade and panting. It was a hot day and the dog looked wistfully at a dripping faucet outside the building. It got up, licked halfheartedly at the faucet and then slowly returned to the shade.

_He's thirsty_, Nate realized. _And exhausted_. He quickly headed into the store.

"Do you have any dog bowls? Anything I could put water in?" he asked Lupe.

"Sure, they're right here." Seeing the puzzled look on her face he explained, "There's a dog out there and he looks really thirsty. I wanted to get him some water."

"Take this." She pushed it into his hands and added, "Don't worry about the money. I'll be out in a minute."

Nathan quickly filled the bowl from the faucet and set it down in front of the dog. It lapped steadily until the bowl was nearly empty. After refilling it, Nathan straightened and saw Lupe standing by his side staring at the dog.

"I've seen him before," she commented. "I don't think he's been here that long."

"Do you think he belongs to somebody?" Nate queried.

Lupe knelt next to the dog, spoke to him in soothing tones for a moment and then gently examined him. She looked up. "No collar. I can feel his ribs, Nathan. This dog hasn't been eating – someone probably abandoned him."

More alert now that he had had a drink, the dog pricked his ears and looked back at her, then at Nathan. His muzzle was long and pointed, his eyes bright and intelligent. Nathan was sure he had to be part German shepherd, but the remainder of his parentage was a mystery.

"That your dog?"

Nate turned quickly and saw a policeman standing behind them. "No, officer, we found him. We were just giving him a drink. It's awfully hot today."

"Does he have tags?"

"No. No collar or anything."

"I'll call Animal Control." The officer reached for his cell phone.

"Don't do that," Nathan said impulsively. "I'll take responsibility for the dog."

"You will, huh?" The policeman eyed them for a moment. "Well, if you do, you need to get him registered. You might want to put some flyers up first, see if anybody claims him."

"Thanks, I will." The officer walked away, leaving Lupe and Nathan staring at each other.

"It looks like you have a dog," she said, smiling.

"Looks like I do. Does Hernandez Hardware sell dog food?"

"Of course. I'll give you a discount. Let's get him inside so Animal Control doesn't take him away." She bent and talked to the dog quietly in Spanish for a moment; he got to his feet and followed her. Inside the store he looked around with interest, but when Nathan directed him to a corner he obeyed immediately, lying on the cool cement floor with his head on his paws.

Nathan quickly selected a collar, food and water bowls and a sack of kibble; Lupe added a dog brush. "He's dusty, he could use a good brushing."

"He could probably use a bath too, but I'll worry about that later." Nathan picked up the bag of supplies. "I'll take this out to the truck and then come back for him." He began to head for the door but was stopped by a voice:

"Lupe? What is this dog doing in here?" Raymond Hernandez was standing behind them, glaring at the dog.

"We found him outside, Papa. Nathan's going to take him home. We just had to bring him inside for a moment so he didn't get picked up and taken to the pound."

"I'm Nathan Pierce, Mr. Hernandez." Nathan offered his hand but Lupe's father ignored it. "Just get him out of here," he ordered, turned away and headed to the stockroom at the back.

"Papa!" Lupe shouted after her father; ignoring her as well, he disappeared through the door. "I'm sorry, Nathan. I can't believe he was so rude."

"It's okay. Let me just get this out to the truck," Nathan answered, embarrassed. Lupe found a piece of cord, laced it through the dog's collar and urged him to his feet.

"Do you know what you're going to call him?" she asked.

"No idea."

Lupe considered for a moment. "'Oso' would be a good name for him," she suggested.

"Oso?"

"It means 'bear' in Spanish. He reminds me of a bear."

"Sounds good to me. Oso?" The dog cocked his head. "Come on, boy, let's go home."

Lupe's father avoided her for the rest of the afternoon. Once the store had closed and she had finished tallying the receipts he came to the register and told her curtly, "Get in the car."

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"Not until I talk to you. Why were you so rude to Nathan today?"

"Why are you spending so much time with him?"

"'So much time'? I see him a few times a week, that's all. I like him. Why shouldn't I spend time with him? You told me I should be going out more."

"Tony told me Jorge followed you the other night. If he sees you with that man—"

"His name is Nathan. And this isn't about Jorge, is it?"

Her father sighed. "Why don't you go out with the Lopez boy? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing, Papa. I just like Nathan better. Please don't be like this. Nathan is a good man, he's kind. If you'd just try to get to know him, you'd see."

"I'm sure he is, but that doesn't mean I'm happy with you dating him. And if you think his family's going to be any happier about it than I am, trust me, you're wrong. Now come on, we need to get home."

* * *

Nathan discovered the truth of this a few days later during his weekly dinner with Diane and Artie. In answer to his mother's usual question he was happy to announce that, yes, he had acquired a dog. "He's part German Shepherd, he's smart and he already sees the ranch as his personal property. He pays attention to everything." Nate was in fact very proud of Oso, who had learned basic commands very quickly. He also appeared to have been house trained at some point, and reminding him of this basic fact had not been difficult.

"What's his name?" Diane asked with interest.

"Oso. It's Spanish for bear."

"Where'd you get the idea to name him that?" Artie asked.

"Well, Lupe named him, actually." Nathan said this as casually as possible.

"Lupe?" Diane asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Lupe Hernandez. She works at Hernandez Hardware. She's the daughter of the owner." Deciding to show all his cards, Nate added, "We've gone out a few times. She's really nice."

"And how did you meet her?" Diane's tone had lost some of its warmth.

"I saw her at the hardware store first and then her car broke down one day. I was driving by and helped her out." Nathan avoided mentioning Lupe's stalker, deciding it was too much to bring into the conversation. "Then we ran into each other again, and I took her out to dinner. I found Oso around the corner from the hardware store and she helped me rescue him. She's a wonderful girl, Mom."

"Pretty, too, if she's the one I'm thinking of," Artie added. A glare from Diane immediately made him shut up and concentrate on his dinner.

"Nathan. Honey. I've been meaning to introduce you to some really nice girls I know who work at the base. I wanted to wait till you were settled in, but they're dying to meet you. And I'd like you to meet them too," Diane commented carefully.

"No thanks, Mom. I'm sure they're nice, but Lupe is really special."

"What exactly does 'really special' mean? How far have you gone with this girl?"

Nathan nearly choked on his iced tea. "It's not like that, Mom. We've gone out to dinner a couple times. She comes to the Yellow Rose to hear me play – which you haven't managed to do yet – and we have lunch together a couple times a week. We take turns packing lunch and we have a picnic in the square. It's about five minutes' walk from the store. She lives with her dad and her brothers. Her mother died nearly a year ago and she keeps house for them as well as working during the day, so we don't spend a lot of evenings together. Maybe it doesn't sound that exciting, but I've enjoyed those lunches more than any date I've ever been on in my life. Every time I see her I feel like I've been in a dark room and somebody just turned on the lights. And that's what I mean by really special."

Diane's expression was enough to make Nathan lose his appetite. "You don't have to say it. I know you aren't thrilled about me dating someone named Hernandez. Lupe tried to tell me it would be like this and I didn't believe her." He put his fork down with an audible clatter. "Look, I'll help you clear the dishes and then I'm going to leave."

"Give her a little time, Nate," Artie muttered to him in the kitchen. "Maybe she just needs to get used to the idea. I'll bring your mom to the Yellow Rose this weekend. You're right, we should've come to see you by now but she seems to have stuff lined up for us to do every Saturday night. If she could meet this girl of yours there that might make it easier. You know, not formal."

"Thanks, Artie," Nathan said with real gratitude. "That's a great idea. I really appreciate it."

"Leave it to me. It just needs a little handling. Your mom's a good sort, Nate. I think she liked the idea of you dating somebody she knew from work because then it would be somebody familiar, and she worries about you. And don't go away thinking I'm a saint." He flashed a grin. "As far as I'm concerned, a pretty girl is a pretty girl. And if she's as nice as you say, all the better."

* * *

Lunchtime the next day saw Nathan waiting anxiously for Lupe, who was ten minutes late. When she did arrive at their usual bench she was clearly in a bad mood. "I can't stay long, Nathan. I'm sorry. Papa only gave me half an hour for lunch today. He says he needs me to take inventory, but I think he's doing this deliberately."

"I told my mother about us last night. She isn't any happier about it than your father is." He stood and paced. "What is _wrong_ with them?"

Lupe began to unwrap her sandwich. "We're going outside their comfort zones. My father keeps asking me why I'm dating you and not 'the Lopez boy.'"

"Great. You just go ahead and do that."

"Oh, come on, Nathan. They'll get over it. Sit with me and eat your lunch." Slowly Nathan returned, sat down and accepted the sandwich Lupe held out to him.

"I almost forgot," he commented, beginning to eat. "My dad and my stepmother should be getting into town soon, either tonight or tomorrow. I want you to meet them."

"What do you think that's going to be like?"

"It'll be fine. Dad's a pretty calm sort of guy and Em is just wonderful. When I first decided to leave the Navy I had no idea what I was going to do. She had a lot to do with me deciding to come here." Nathan hesitated for a moment, suddenly realizing that he had never explained to Lupe exactly who his stepmother was. "I call her Em, but her first name is Martha. She's the former First Lady. She was married to Charles Logan and Dad was the Secret Service agent assigned to protect her. She and Dad figured out that Logan was behind the terrorist attacks, and she's the one that got the confession out of him. After that was all over she divorced Logan and married Dad."

Lupe was staring at him. "Your stepmother is _Martha Logan_? The one who wrote the book?"

"Yep, that identical one."

"And you want me to meet her?"

"I know she's going to want to meet you. She's part of the family, Lupe. It won't be—" he broke off suddenly, noticing a man about twenty feet away who was staring at them. As Nathan made eye contact he stalked over to Lupe.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her angrily. "Who is this man?"

Lupe clutched the edge of the bench. "It's none of your business. Go away and leave us alone."

"Is this Jorge?" Nathan asked. She nodded briefly, and Nathan stood. "The lady asked you to leave," he said as calmly as possible, hoping to defuse the situation.

Jorge turned without answering and hit Nathan in the jaw, knocking him off balance, then tripped him. As Nathan hit the ground, Jorge began kicking him viciously in the ribs.

"_No!_" Lupe threw herself at Jorge, pushing him away, and screamed for help to a passerby who pulled out his phone and quickly began dialing. Enraged, Jorge slapped Lupe across the face.

"You bitch, you left me for some white guy? If I ever see you with him again I'll kill you!" He made another move toward Nathan, but taking another look at the man with the phone changed his mind and ran toward his car.

Nathan struggled upright, wincing at the pain in his ribs as he tried to breathe, and leaned against the bench for support.

"Are you all right?" Lupe was kneeling next to him, weeping.

"I thought I could reason with him. I can't believe he caught me off guard like that—"

"Take it easy, buddy." The man who had called 911 was at his other side. "Looks like that guy did a number on you. Once you get done talking to the police you'd better get to the hospital and get checked out." He looked up at the sound of footsteps. "Here they are."

* * *

Aaron and Martha were less than ten miles from the ranch when Aaron's cell phone rang. "Hi, Bill. We're nearly there… _What?_" He listened for a moment. "Which hospital? Okay, we'll be there in about half an hour." He hung up and turned to Martha. "Pull over, Martha, we're going into town. I'll drive."

"What happened? Is it your mother?" Martha asked, fearing the worst.

"No, it's Nathan. He got attacked, some guy beat him up badly enough that he had to go to the emergency room. The police are on it," Aaron answered tensely. He swung the trailer into a 180-degree turn at the next intersection and headed back toward Ambler Grove.


	12. Chapter 12

Nathan closed his eyes, trying to avoid the uncomfortably bright light coming from the fluorescent fixture in the ceiling. He had no choice but to look at it since he was lying on his back and turning his head made him dizzy.

"Lupe? You still there?" He winced as the doctor probed his ribs.

She squeezed his hand. "Yes, Nathan, I'm here."

"Good. Don't leave," he answered, trying to stifle a groan of pain. The doctor muttered an apology and straightened, having completed her examination.

"Mr. Pierce, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is you aren't concussed and you're going to be fine. I wouldn't be surprised though if you had a cracked rib, maybe two. I'm going to order some X-rays to take a closer look."

"Do we need the X-rays?"

"If you're filing charges against the man who assaulted you I'd recommend it. The more documentation the better. Ms. Hernandez, if you don't mind returning to the waiting room I'll let you know when Mr. Pierce gets back from the radiology department." The doctor finished scribbling orders, gave them both an impersonal smile and handed the chart to a nurse waiting nearby. "As soon as I get a look at the films, you can probably go home. I'm going to talk to the police while you're getting the X-rays done," she added as she left the room.

Hoping to avoid a confrontation with the Pierces, Lupe chose a chair in an inconspicuous corner of the waiting room. A muted television mounted on the wall broadcast a series of commercials, interspersed with scenes from what could have been a soap opera; wrapped in her thoughts, Lupe ignored it. She had called her father to let him know what had happened and that she would not be returning to work that day. Judging from his reaction over the phone, she was not looking forward to her reception at home any more than she was to meeting Nathan's mother.

Suddenly the quiet of the waiting area was shattered as a group of people erupted through its automatic doors. The leader, a slightly faded brunette of around fifty, strode to the reception desk. "Where's my son?" she asked tensely. "His name is Nathan Pierce. I want to see him!" She was trailed by two men, one tall and good-looking and another who was shorter, stockier and wearing a Stetson which he removed as he entered the hospital, revealing a head of thinning red hair. Realizing that she was looking at Nathan's mother and uncle, Lupe glanced away hoping not to attract any attention.

The receptionist, a lean woman in her sixties, obviously had a great deal of experience dealing with distraught relatives and was unimpressed. "Just a moment, ma'am, I'll see what I can do," she drawled, leaned back in her chair and called to a co-worker: "Pierce, Nathan. Family's here, find the charge nurse and let her know." Turning back to Diane, she added, "Take a seat, ma'am, we'll be right with you."

Diane glared for a moment, but the receptionist looked back at her calmly. One of the men took her arm and murmured something in her ear: "All right, Artie," she answered and clutched his hand, allowing him to lead her to a seat. The other man looked at his watch and muttered, "Aaron should be here soon. I let him know we were coming to the hospital."

"Did you _have_ to do that, Bill?"

"The last I checked, Aaron was still his father. Not to mention if Nathan isn't there when he and Em get to the ranch they're going to be a bit concerned." Bill wandered over to the television and clicked a few channels experimentally. "Nothing," he shrugged and sat down a few seats away from Lupe. A moment later the receptionist leaned forward, caught Diane's attention and explained that Nathan was expected back shortly from the radiology department.

"What does that mean? Is it serious?" Diane tensed again.

"I'm sure the doctor will explain everything after she gets a look at the X-rays." Impassive, the receptionist went back to her paperwork

Lupe began to shiver in the heavily air-conditioned room. _They won't let me near him,_ she thought miserably. _I won't get a chance to see him. This is all my fault._ She began to cry silently.

"Uh, miss? Want a Kleenex?" The redheaded man was standing in front of her, proffering a box of tissues. "They were over on the other side there," he added, gesturing. "Thought maybe you could use one."

"Thank you." Lupe gulped, blew her nose and tried to calm herself.

"You here waiting for somebody too?"

The kindness in his eyes emboldened Lupe to tell the truth. "Yes. I think it's the same person you're waiting for. Nathan Pierce."

"You know Nathan?" Bill looked puzzled. "How do you know him?"

"We've been seeing each other for the past few weeks. My name is Lupe Hernandez. I was with him when he got attacked."

"So you're the one!" Across the room Diane had shot to her feet.

"Ah, you work at the hardware store, right? I thought I recognized you." The man with Diane put a hand on her arm. "Can you maybe tell us what happened? We didn't get much information from the police," he added, giving Diane a look that seemed to calm her.

Lupe hesitated, realizing that Diane would undoubtedly blame her for the attack on Nathan after hearing her story. She braced herself to explain but at that moment another man hurried through the doors and ran straight to her:

"Lupe! I closed the store as soon as I could." He embraced her tightly. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, Papa! I'm so glad you're here…" Lupe hugged him back and buried her face in his shoulder for a moment. "This is Nathan's family. I'm fine but he's getting X-rays right now. They sent me out here to wait for him."

Her father glanced at the other three. "I am Raymond Hernandez," he announced. "I am sorry to hear about what happened to Nathan."

"Bill Pierce." The redheaded man offered a hand immediately. "I'm Nathan's uncle."

"Artie Dewitt," said the other man, following Bill's example. "I'm Nathan's stepfather, and this is his mother, Diane. Lupe was about to tell us what happened," he added, giving her an encouraging look.

In her father's presence Lupe was less concerned about telling her story. She quickly explained her previous relationship with Jorge, making it clear that she had ended their relationship well before she had met Nathan, and described the vandalism to her car and Jorge's assault on her brother. "Nathan told me I should get a restraining order," she added, "and I tried. But there wasn't enough evidence."

"There is now," Bill snapped. "Nathan's father will take care of this, Lupe. He's with the Secret Service and he's worked with local law enforcement before. They can get this guy."

The door to the treatment area opened, revealing the doctor who had treated Nathan. "Ah, there you are, Ms. Hernandez. Are you Nathan Pierce's family?" she asked the rest of the group. "He's ready to go home. The nurse is getting him ready now."

"How is Nathan, doctor?" Diane immediately rushed across the room. "I'm his mother. We just got here."

"He's fine. The X rays show no fracture of any kind and I think all he needs is a little rest. He's going to be sore for the next day or two. I gave him a prescription for some pills to help with that." Eyeing the anxious group, the doctor added, "Why don't you stay here and we'll bring him out."

Bill stepped forward. "Nathan's father will be here soon. He's in law enforcement and I know he's going to want to talk to the police. I'd like to see the officer in charge of the case."

"I'll see if he's still here." The doctor nodded and turned back into the clinical area, closing the door behind her. The group shifted uneasily as they waited and Bill glanced at his watch again. Suddenly Diane announced in a tone that brooked no argument, "I'm taking Nathan home with me tonight. I appreciate your staying with him, Ms. Hernandez, but I don't think we need to keep you any longer. I'm sure you must want to get home."

"Diane, you might want to let her decide that for herself." Bill was looking increasingly annoyed with his former sister-in-law. "And I think Nathan would like to make his own arrangements about where to stay – he's welcome at the ranch, too, you know."

Diane opened her mouth to retort, but the argument was suddenly derailed as a tall blonde hurried into the waiting area to join the group. Lupe recognized her instantly, and even her father frowned, puzzled. "She looks familiar," he commented. "Who is that?"

"It's Nathan's stepmother," Lupe whispered. "Martha Logan, the one who used to be married to the President. She divorced him and married Nathan's dad."

Her father looked stunned, but before he could say anything further the new arrival was hugging Bill and greeting Diane. "Aaron's parking the car," she explained. "He'll be right in. Is this true? Nathan was attacked?"

Bill quickly explained what had happened and introduced Lupe and her father. "Nathan should be coming out any minute," he explained, "and the doctor who saw him went to get the officer investigating the case." Suddenly the door behind him opened and the doctor led a calm-looking man in uniform forward.

"This is Officer Peake, Mr. Pierce. You asked to speak with him?"

Before Bill could answer another voice chimed in: "Where is my son?"

Another man had joined the group, standing next to Martha. His voice was quiet but tense, and Lupe immediately realized that she was looking at Nathan's father.

The doctor, who had clearly just recognized Martha, blinked. "He's coming out now, Mr. Pierce." She gestured to the door through which Nathan was emerging in a wheelchair, vigorously protesting, "I don't need this thing, honest."

Diane immediately smothered Nathan in a hug. Patting her shoulder, he looked around for Lupe; his face lit with a smile when he saw her and he stretched out his free hand.

"They say I'm gonna live," he joked. Lupe tried to smile but could not stop the tears from welling in her eyes. "Look, I honestly think everybody's overreacting. I'm fine, Mom. Really." He looked around. "Dad? Em? I'm sorry about this, this is no way to start a visit." He tried to stand up out of the chair but winced.

Aaron put his hand on Nathan's shoulder, gesturing him to stay in the chair. "Just relax, son. Give me a minute to talk to the police –"

"Mr. Pierce?" the officer stepped forward. "I'll be glad to talk to you. I'm Tim Peake. You may not remember, but I was a few years behind you in school."

"Tim Peake?" Aaron smiled. "Yes, of course I remember you. So you joined the police after you graduated?"

"Uh huh. I've been talking to your boy here and I put a call in to the station – we've picked up some information about this guy. I'll be glad to talk to you about it."

Diane interrupted. "Aaron, I'm taking Nathan home with me tonight. It's only five minutes from here if he needs to go back to the hospital, and I think he needs to rest."

Aaron considered for a moment and nodded in agreement. "I think that's a good idea. I'll come by to see you as soon as I'm done here, Nathan."

"But what about Oso?" Nathan objected. "I don't think he's going to like it if people he doesn't recognize come into the house without me."

"I'll go with them, Nathan," Lupe offered. "Oso knows me. If I'm there I don't think he will mind." After a quick discussion, it was agreed that Martha would go to the ranch with Lupe and her father while Aaron stayed to discuss the case with Officer Peake. Bill, while willing to accompany Martha to the ranch, had chores to finish and agreed to get in touch with them the next day.

* * *

An hour later Aaron walked into Diane's kitchen and found her hovering over the stove. "I didn't stay too long, I didn't want to tire him out. He looks okay, but I think you were right. Staying here was the best thing for him."

Diane looked mollified. "Thank you, Aaron. I really appreciate –" she stopped and started over again. "I'm glad you're here. Bill was not too happy when I said I wanted Nathan to stay with me. Thanks for backing me up."

"I wanted what was best for him, and this is clearly what's best." Aaron was pacing around the kitchen; Diane looked at him curiously.

"You're worried," she commented, with a slight tone of surprise.

"Of course I'm worried. I always worry about him. The whole time he was in the Navy do you think I didn't worry? That I didn't care? I wanted what you wanted – I wanted him to go to college. Stay safe. But it was his decision and I respected it. I always thought that he signed up partly because he just wanted out, to get away from us. We were in the middle of separating –"

"So it's my fault."

"No, Diane. It isn't anybody's fault. And even if it were, I'm just as much to blame for the marriage breaking up as you. I didn't try very hard to keep us together, I was away a lot..." Aaron looked sadly at his ex-wife. "I'm sorry for the mistakes I made."

Diane gave him a surprised look. "You've changed, Aaron."

"I hope so."

"I'm sorry too. I hurt you, I disappointed your mother and I acted like a fool. All for a relationship that never had a chance."

"I hope things are working out better for you now," Aaron offered.

Diane's expression brightened. "They are. Artie has been good for me, and I like to think I've been good for him. He gets along great with Nathan, too."

"Glad to hear it."

Mentioning her son brought Diane's mind back to the problem at hand. "What did the police say, Aaron?"

"Tim Peake pulled up some information on this guy Jorge Herrera. He's been involved in some assault cases in the past, not here but elsewhere in the state. They also suspected him of some drug dealing, but could never prove it. He's been living in town with a cousin for the last few years. The cousin doesn't know where he is – or says he doesn't. Tim said he wouldn't be surprised if Jorge were over the border by now and back in Mexico. I also asked him to check on Lupe," he added. "She's got absolutely no record of any problems and her family's well regarded in town. I'm sure she didn't have anything to do with this."

* * *

Finally home, Aaron walked slowly up the porch steps. The adrenaline released when he had heard the news about Nathan had ebbed and fatigue had suddenly hit him. Martha met him at the door, accompanied by Oso; the dog smelled Aaron cautiously, then wagged his tail as Aaron scratched him behind the ears.

"Good boy, Oso!" Martha said encouragingly. "Let's sit down for a minute, Aaron. Oso needs to get to know you."

"Did you have any trouble with him when you got here?"

"No. Lupe introduced us and stayed for a few minutes. We talked for a while and then she left with her father." Martha paused for a moment. "She's crazy about Nathan, Aaron. I could see that. She and her father seem like nice people. He's rather strict; I got the impression he wasn't too happy that Lupe and Nathan were dating, but family is important to him just as it is to us. I think that now he's met us, things will be a little bit easier."

"Glad you got along. Did you get a chance to check out the house yet?"

"Not yet, I was spending time with Oso and trying to figure out what to fix for dinner. I'm afraid it's going to be tuna again, but we can have steak tomorrow night," she added apologetically.

Aaron smiled. "That sounds fine. Before we have dinner let's go take a look around; I've got Nathan's list of the stuff he was working on." Together they went through the house, inspecting the newly-delivered double bed in the master bedroom and the paint samples Nathan had laid out for the bathroom and bedroom.

"He's so thoughtful, Aaron." Martha suddenly realized there were tears in her eyes. "He's all right? You're sure?"

"I'm sure. He said tonight, 'It's my pride that hurts the most.'" Aaron gave a half-laugh. "And he said something else. 'Tell Em to look after my girl.' I think Diane isn't too happy that he's seeing Lupe."

"We'll go see her tomorrow." Martha looked determined. "We can pretend we're picking out paint for the house or something. I want you to get a chance to talk to Lupe, Aaron. Nathan's fallen for her in a big way."

"How big?"

"Daughter-in-law big. I think."

"Hm." Aaron stared out the bedroom window and put his arm around his wife's waist. "Let's go get that tuna."


	13. Chapter 13

Finally, here's the next chapter. No matter how the writers on _24_ think Martha and Aaron's relationship ended, I choose to believe that somewhere Mr. and Mrs. Pierce are living happily ever after...

* * *

Late the next morning Nathan returned to the ranch. He played down his injuries as much as possible, but the anxious look in his eyes when Aaron told him what the police had learned of Jorge Herrera's past contradicted his light tone.

"_Drugs?_ I swear Lupe didn't know anything about this."

"I'm sure she didn't. He's been moving around the state a lot. He moved to Ambler Grove about a year and a half ago, lived with this cousin of his, kept his nose clean. Maybe he was trying to turn over a new leaf. But at some point after he met Lupe he started going bad again."

"And nobody knows where he is?"

"Tim Peake talked to the state police, the border patrol and put out a bulletin. He told me he'd call the minute he heard anything…" Aaron glanced at his cell phone and shrugged. "Nothing yet."

Nathan scowled at the cup of coffee Martha had put in front of him. "I came out of this looking like an idiot."

"No you didn't, son. You tried to defuse the situation, which was the right thing to do, but this guy is vicious. If you'd been aggressive with him it would have made things worse."

"Maybe." Nathan patted Oso, who had come up to the table with a hopeful look. "Em, are you spoiling him? He knows he's not supposed to beg."

"Who, me?" Martha gave Nathan a look of innocent indignation, but Aaron's chuckle made her blush instead. "Well, I did give him a little tuna last night."

"You gave him half your sandwich," her husband corrected her.

"It was a strategic decision. I wanted him to like me."

"Em, that's sweet of you. And I know he likes you, but he's a guard dog, not a house dog. Once the ranch gets going I want him out on patrol, not hanging around the house."

"You're right, Nathan," Martha agreed immediately, thinking of the possibility that Herrera would return. "I won't feed him from the table again."

"So how did things go last night when Lupe introduced you to Oso?" Nathan asked, changing the subject.

"Really well. Lupe spoke to him for a minute, had me sit down and brought him over to me. While I got acquainted with Oso I talked to Lupe and her father." Martha eyed her stepson for a moment and then answered the question she saw in his eyes. "I like them, Nathan. Both of them. I probably talked more to her father than I did to her, but I wanted to make sure he knew about the kind of family you come from. Mr. Hernandez is a bit reserved, maybe even proud. He reminds me of some diplomats I've met. We talked about a trip I took to Mexico back when I was married to my first husband. He was Vice-President then." She glanced at Aaron as she spoke and he nodded, remembering that Vice-President and Mrs. Logan had toured Mexico shortly after the Keeler inauguration. He had been assigned to Martha's protective detail just a week before the trip. "And I talked about your family. Bill and Barbara, your grandmother, and how your father and I were moving back in just about a year's time. I told him how close you all are, and I think that made a difference to him."

"Let me guess," said Aaron, smiling. "You turned on the charm."

"Well, maybe just a little," Martha admitted with a mischievous grin. "I figured it couldn't hurt."

"He doesn't stand a chance," Aaron muttered to Nathan, who laughed and replied: "I'm glad you got along with him, Em. I haven't had much success so far."

"I think things will be a little different now that he's met your family. I want your father to meet him the next time we go into town."

Nathan's expression brightened. "Did you get a chance to see the paint samples?"

"We saw everything. The house looks great, Nathan. You've done a fantastic job. We can't thank you enough for all the work you've put in."

"I've got more to show you." Nathan pushed his chair back and headed to the door. "Come on, Em, Dad…" He led them outside. "We're taking the grand tour, but first I wanted to show you this." He stopped at the patch of ground that had formerly been the Brooks garden. "Nothing's growing right now, but Grandma told me to mulch it and keep the ground turned over. I might put out some tomatoes, but other than that it can keep till you move here, if that's okay?"

"Of course! Mother knows about gardens," Aaron added. "A lot more than I do. When we move back I'll talk to her about what to plant."

Nathan waved them into his truck and they moved on to view the barn and fencing repairs he had done. Finally, they drove back to the center of the property and Nathan paused at the stream.

"I've been talking to Tony, Lupe's brother," he began. "He's interested in winegrowing. He brought a friend of his over to look at the ranch and they think this would be the right sort of place to grow grapes. I did talk to some friends of Uncle Bill's about sheep ranching and I've got that information for you too, but I'd really like you to meet this guy. His name's Michael Watts, he runs a winery and he's looking for grapes."

"We couldn't grow that many here. Could we?" Martha wondered.

"Not a huge crop, but respectable, he thinks. And who knows, maybe we could buy some of the old Brooks land back if we make a success of it."

Aaron traded looks with Martha. "We'll meet with him, Nathan, no problem. I just need to figure out what to ask him. How much money would this entail to get started? How long does it take to get the vines to produce after you plant them? That sort of thing."

"Great. I can answer some of that, I've got the file back at the house."

* * *

That afternoon Martha and Aaron, accompanied by Nathan, drove to Bill's ranch to visit Gertrude and the rest of the family. They were greeted by a boisterous group of nieces and nephews. Barbara, Martha's sister-in-law, was in high spirits and even Gertrude was cheerful. Only Bill seemed relatively silent. This surprised Martha, as her brother-in-law was usually the life of the party; glancing at Aaron, she could tell that he was concerned as well. When Bill turned down an invitation to participate in a pickup touch football game that Nathan had organized, Martha followed him out to the barn, volunteering to help with the chores.

"You don't seem to be getting much done," she commented a few minutes later, walking into Bill's office. He was slumped behind the desk staring at a pile of paperwork. "What's wrong, Bill? You really aren't yourself today."

"I just, I don't know, Em. This is going to sound stupid. Childish. But last night just really upset me. Me trying to talk to the police, find out what happened, and then Aaron shows up and Tim Peake rolls out the red carpet for him… we were in the same class in high school, for crying out loud! I might as well not have been there."

"Bill, don't feel that way! Your being there made a lot of difference. Lupe told me how kind you were, and frankly, I think things would've been a lot more difficult if it had been just her and Diane. Besides, Aaron works in law enforcement himself, more or less. They know his reputation, that's all."

"Yeah, his reputation," Bill answered sarcastically, then hastily added, "He earned it, Em, I know he did. I know how many times he's been in danger, I know what he did for you… but he's met Presidents, he's been all over the world, seems like everybody knows him and I've just been stuck here on the ranch all my life."

Martha eyed him thoughtfully. "Forget Aaron for just a second, Bill. Do you like being a rancher? Do you like what you do?"

"Hell, yes. I love it. I never wanted an office job, I like being outdoors, and now I'm taking some Internet courses at Texas A&M to hear about new stuff, do basic medical care for the horses, that kind of thing. It's really interesting. I think most people don't know there's an academic side to this sort of work." Bill's face lit up as he talked eagerly about the ranch. "And it's a family business. I take a lot of pride in that."

"And you've got Ann and the kids. Everything okay there?"

"Oh, everything's great. Ann is…" Bill's eyes misted for a moment. "She's just wonderful, Em. She's my right hand, she's so understanding and she never complains. I know she's always wanted to travel, but we could never get away what with the ranch and the kids and all. I wish I could give her that. Maybe that's why I'm feeling frustrated. We've got our twenty-fifth anniversary coming up and I know it's just gonna be another night out at the steakhouse, because that's all we can manage. She deserves better than that."

"But you've got a job you love and you're still happily married after twenty-five years? I wouldn't be surprised if Aaron envied you for that, Bill. I'm going to tell you some things that you don't know. After the terrorist attacks Aaron had serious doubts about his career. He almost quit. The man he was supposed to be protecting turned out to be a traitor and tried to have him killed for doing his duty. It took him a long time to get over that; he felt like everything he'd done had been a waste of time. Aaron's the most selfless man there is and he's devoted to his job. That's what got him where he is today, but it cost him his first marriage and it almost cost him his relationship with Nathan. He's told me so many times that he wishes he'd been around more when Nathan was growing up. And as for meeting Presidents…" She gave Bill a grim smile. "That's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Sorry, Em. I forgot," Bill apologized.

"Besides that, being a Secret Service agent isn't exactly glamorous. You spend a lot of time just standing around, waiting and watching. He's been around the world, yes, but he never got much of a chance to enjoy it because he was working. And then he got stuck with my security detail. Let me tell you," she met Bill's eyes directly, "I was no picnic. I was very unhappy. Sometimes I didn't behave very well, and sometimes I took my unhappiness out on him. I'm ashamed –" she paused, overcome for a moment. "I'm very ashamed to think about it now. I can't tell you how many times I've regretted it. But because he's a good man, and because he loves me, he forgave me and I've tried to make it up to him every single day since."

"I didn't…" Bill looked stunned. "I didn't know this, Em."

"He doesn't talk about these things much. He does talk to me, because I went through a lot of it with him, but even with me he doesn't always share what he's thinking. He's very private. I'm sharing this with you because the very last thing I want is for you to be jealous. Aaron's so thrilled to be coming back here, to be with you and the rest of the family, and I don't want this to spoil it." She gave him a direct look. "Understand?"

"I got it, Em. Loud and clear. Thanks for telling me this." Bill rose to his feet. "I think we'd better be getting back to the house, it'll be time for dinner soon."

"Listen, Bill. What would you and Ann do for your anniversary if you could do anything that you wanted? I've got an idea…"

* * *

Before they went to sleep that night Martha told Aaron her plan. "Bill told me today that their anniversary is coming up and he really wants to do something nice for Ann. He said right away she'd always wanted to see Hawaii."

"The two of us? _Run the ranch?_" Aaron was aghast.

"It won't just be the two of us. Nathan will be there, and the boys can help. And Gertrude thinks it's a great idea. She says Bill and Ann both need a vacation." Martha looked pleadingly at her husband. "It'll be good practice for us, too."

Aaron looked at her, smiled and shook his head. "I just hope we don't destroy the place."

"We won't. He's got six months to get everything organized and work with Nathan."

The next few days were a blur of moving furniture, painting and researching plans for the ranch. After several discussions and a meeting with Michael Watts, Martha and Aaron agreed to Nathan's plan and worked out the initial investment for planting the land with grapevines. The afternoon before they were to return to Washington, Aaron found Martha standing in the kitchen with a sheaf of paint samples in her hand. "Do you want to run into town, Aaron? I need to pick up some groceries for the barbecue tonight, and I thought we might get some more paint while we're there."

Aaron took her hand and pulled her back to him. "Wait. I've got a better idea."

"What is it?"

"Nathan's already in town seeing Lupe. We're going to be alone all afternoon until it's time to go to Bill's, right?"

"Yes…" a mischievous look appeared on Martha's face. "Did you have any plans for this afternoon, Agent Pierce?"

"You bet I do. And they involve you. It's our vacation and we haven't been really alone since we got here. Let's call Nathan and tell him to pick up whatever you need."

Martha leaned against Aaron's chest. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the clean, laundry scent of his T shirt. "Okay. Let's go upstairs," she whispered. "I have plans for you, too."

A while later Martha rolled over and wrapped her arms around her husband. A light breeze was blowing through the window and golden afternoon light filled the room; she sighed, thinking, _this is just perfect._ Aaron, who looked fairly satisfied himself, was smiling at her through half-shut eyes.

"This is so much fun. You make me feel like I'm back in high school," she whispered.

"Really?" Aaron stretched lazily. "High school?"

"Uh huh. Like this is prom night, and we've just done something our parents wouldn't approve of."

He laughed. "Let me tell you, my prom nights were never this exciting. Not even close," he added, kissing her neck.

"I'm so glad we're here. I'm glad we bought this place, that we have somewhere to really belong."

"So am I." Her husband looked at her for a moment. "You're not tired of my family yet? They're not getting to you?"

"Are you kidding? They're wonderful, Aaron. I love your family. And they've been good about accepting me – I don't think it could have been easy for them, either."

"I like being near them, but we won't have as much privacy here as we do in Washington."

"That's just part of being in a family. When I was a little girl, my best friend lived down the street in a big house. She had four sisters and brothers, and I think her mother's parents lived there too. I used to wish I had a big family like she did, instead of it being just me and my mother. My friend had to share a bedroom with her sister, and I know she liked coming to visit me because it was quieter, but I would have loved to live in her house. It just felt so _warm._ That's how it feels here, Aaron. Besides, we live thirty miles away, not across the street. Privacy shouldn't be that much of a problem."

"And if Nathan stays on?"

"Nathan can stay as long as he wants. I'll just have to keep a bathrobe on instead of running around in a towel when I shower," she teased him. "Speaking of Nathan…" she sniffed. "Do you smell something?"

Aaron frowned. "Yes. Something's cooking –"

"The side dish for the barbecue! Oh, my God. I completely forgot!" Martha looked stricken.

"Well, I think he's taken care of it. I wonder if he figured out that we were… busy."

"Probably, but he won't care." Martha glanced at the clock. "We need to get ready. I've got to go shower."

"Don't forget your bathrobe!" Aaron called after her.

* * *

Two hundred miles away Jorge Herrera, having walked from the bus station, dumped his duffel bag on the porch of a small house. The woman inside looked up at the noise and then hugged him. "Jorge!"

"Mama, I'm home. Glad to see me?" he asked her in Spanish.

"Of course I'm glad to see you, but is everything all right?"

"Fine. I just decided I'd like to come home for awhile," he answered evasively. "Look, I brought you some money. I've been saving while I was in the States."

"Don't show it to your father," she said grimly, "or there won't be any left to pay the bills."

"You don't need to tell me that," Jorge snapped. "How are things going?"

"About the same." His mother shrugged. "He works a few weeks, then he spends it drinking and gambling with his friends. You know how he is."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see me," Jorge muttered sarcastically. "He always is."

"If you have good news for him… your job? This girl you've been seeing?"

"We're not seeing each other right now. And as for the job – well, I'll have to find something here. At least for a while."

His mother looked disappointed. "She sounded like such a nice girl, Jorge."

"She is, Mama. She's just a little confused. We had a misunderstanding. But someday I'll bring her here and you can meet her." Jorge looked determined. "Someday I'll go back for her and bring her here."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"What do you think?"

"I think this is the biggest wedding I've ever been to," Aaron answered in a low tone. They were seated at the head table along with Mike Novick's sister Ava Reid and her husband. Mike and Jane's places were empty; the bride and groom were still making the rounds of the ballroom and trying to speak to every guest. "But dinner was great."

"I like these favors, don't you?" Ava said brightly, glancing at the label on her bottle of water. "What a sweet idea - they personalized the bottle label!"

"Yes, it is a nice idea. I went over to Jane's one night to help with the wedding arrangements and I remember they were trying to decide what to use as table favors," Martha answered. She was amused to see individual corkscrews on the table as well as the water. "I guess this is Jane's idea of a compromise," she muttered to her husband. "They got both."

Aaron chuckled and then glanced across the ballroom to where the band was setting up. "Looks like the music's going to start soon. I'm going to ask them for a two-step."

Martha's face lit up. "I would love that, Aaron –" she began, then arched an eyebrow and added, "Look who's headed our way." Following her glance, Aaron saw former President Hal Gardner with his wife Beth in tow. He sighed and stood up, offering his hand to Gardner.

"Mr. President. Mrs. Gardner, nice to see you."

"Aaron. Martha, you look lovely." Gardner gave Aaron a warm shake of the hand and Martha a kiss on the cheek. "It's good to see you." Aaron quickly introduced Mike's family to the Gardners; Mrs. Reid fell into conversation with Beth, leaving Hal to the Pierces.

"My publisher told me you're writing a book, is that right?" Martha asked.

"Yes," Gardner admitted, looking pleased. "The history of American criminal law and how it evolved in different parts of the country. British law, you know, versus the Napoleonic code in Louisiana and so forth."

"Are you happy to be back in law?"

"Love it. I'm doing some speaking and consulting, keeping busy. You seem to be keeping busy yourself," he added with a smile. "If my book is half the success yours is, I'll be very happy." He turned to Aaron and added: "I heard a rumor you'd been offered the position of Director, Aaron. Is that true?"

"Yes, it is," Aaron answered, wondering how Gardner had heard. "But Martha and I will be moving to Texas next year, and I had to turn it down. Eric McFadden is going to be Director."

"McFadden… ah, yes. I've met him. I'm sure he'll do a good job, but you would have made an outstanding Director, Aaron." Gardner collected his wife and moved on; Aaron held Martha's chair for her and whispered, "How did he hear that Director Finch offered me the job?"

"It's Washington, Aaron. Maybe Finch told him, maybe he heard it from somebody else." Martha shrugged.

"I just hope it doesn't get all over town. Eric won't be very happy about it." Aaron frowned. "Well, I'm going to go request our dance. I'll be back in a minute." Martha watched him thread his way across the room and stop to chat with the Service agents who had accompanied the Gardners to the reception. She turned back to Ava Reid, who was clearly thrilled to have had the chance to meet a President (even a former one).

"What a _masterful_ looking man!" she dithered. "And his wife is _very_ nice. Isn't she, dear?" Barely giving her spouse a chance to answer, she continued: "You must have enjoyed working with her, Martha."

"Oh yes," Martha lied. "She's very organized, supports a lot of worthy causes. When Aaron and I got married, she had a reception for us. It was kind of her," she added, more truthfully. "She didn't have to do that, but she volunteered."

"Oh, it must have been lovely."

"It was… oh, look. Mike and Jane are starting their dance! Let's go over," Martha commented, happy to leave the topic of the Gardners.

After the Novicks had waltzed Martha applauded politely and began to look around for Aaron, only to see the master of ceremonies at her elbow. "Mr. and Mrs. Novick would like to dance with you and your husband next," he whispered, and a few moments later Martha found herself being steered around the dance floor by Mike. She complimented him on the reception and then suddenly remembered another time they had danced, which had been much less pleasant: it had been at a White House reception. Charles had basically ordered Novick to dance with her, both to quell rumors that she was on bad terms with his Chief of Staff and to get her away from the bar. She had been angry and humiliated and Novick had been embarrassed.

Mike noticed her expression. "Everything all right, Martha?" he asked, concerned.

Martha brought herself back to the present with an effort. _It's over,_ she reminded herself. _That life is over._

"Everything's fine, Mike. It was just a bad memory. Sometimes I remember the way things were a few years ago – call it a flashback if you want to."

Novick looked serious. "Martha, you have made an amazing recovery. You have a lot to be proud of, and Jane thinks you're marvelous. The day Charles was arrested I told Aaron that I had seriously underestimated you, but I don't think I ever apologized to you. I'm sorry. I wish I had listened to you back when I could have been more of a help."

"It's okay, Mike. He had us all fooled. Me included, and I was married to him." Trying to turn the subject, she asked: "How long is your honeymoon going to be?"

"Two weeks. It's the longest vacation I've taken in years."

"So the Institute is keeping you busy?"

Novick began to describe his latest work project, and Martha relaxed. As their dance came to an end the band struck up a two-step and Aaron tapped her shoulder.

"Watch this, Mike!" she laughed, taking Aaron's hand. Mike watched them for a moment and then smiled at his bride. "Want to give it a shot?"

"You bet! I remember this from their wedding."

Moments later, other couples crowded onto the dance floor and began imitating their steps. "I think we started something!" Aaron called over the music; Martha flashed him a grin of agreement and kept dancing.

Later that evening the Pierces returned to their darkened apartment. Martha hung up their coats and then turned and hugged her husband tightly.

"What is it, Martha? I know something was bothering you tonight," he whispered.

"Nothing bad. It's just that when I was dancing with Mike I had this sudden memory of another time we were dancing that wasn't so much fun. It was at a reception about six months after John Keeler was killed. Mike and I – " she paused. "We didn't get along."

"I remember. I was there." Aaron's jaw tightened.

Martha looked at him for a moment in wonder, and then realized – of _course_ he had been there. He had always been there. Overwhelmed, she buried her face in his shoulder for a moment and then continued: "Mike was very sweet tonight. He apologized and said he wished he had listened more to me then. And then you started dancing with me," her face lit up, "and it was as though none of that time had ever happened. I feel so lucky, Aaron. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I don't know what I'd do without you either. I look back sometimes too, and I can't believe how unhappy I was. Even though I wouldn't admit it." He felt Martha kiss him on the cheek and continued. "I cut myself off from everyone. My family, friends, everyone I worked with, and I was too proud to admit it."

More kisses on his face. "I don't know where I'd be without you, Martha. But it wouldn't be anyplace I'd want to be." On impulse, he bent, picked her up and felt her gasp as he carried her down the hall.

"Where are we going?"

"Guess."

* * *

Nathan was standing in the aisle at Hernandez Hardware focusing on choosing paint colors when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "I haven't seen you in a while, Nathan. Everything okay?"

"Everything's great, Frank." Nathan felt a twinge of guilt: Frank Emerson was his oldest friend, but in the past month he had not called him once. He was spending as much time with Lupe as possible and working with Tony to prepare the stretch of ranch land that was shortly to become a vineyard. "It's just that, you know, things are really busy. Between the ranch and working on the house, it's nonstop."

"Uh huh." Emerson dropped a case of motor oil into his cart. "Well, I got to get back to the lot. Dad just got a bunch of cars in he wants me to work on." He glanced at Nathan. "Want to come by?"

Nathan had spent several afternoons at the Emerson used-car lot when he had first moved back to town and had been happy to help Frank with odd jobs. "Sure—" he began, but stopped as Tony joined them.

"You get everything, Nathan?" he asked and then nodded to Emerson.

"This is Tony Hernandez, Frank. He's the one who got me planting grapes."

Emerson shook hands with Tony, giving Nathan a quizzical look. "So I guess you can't come by, then?"

"No, we'll come by. Meet you there in ten minutes." Emerson nodded and left the hardware store.

"What's up?"

"Frank's my oldest friend, Tony. When I was growing up we lived in Washington, but we came back here every summer to visit family and that's how I met him. I haven't seen much of him lately, I've been too busy. I've got to spend some time with him this afternoon. He and his dad run Emerson's Used Cars."

"Yeah? I've been there a few times, looking. I wouldn't mind going by and seeing what they've got."

"No more cars, Tony," his father added sternly from behind the register. "You've already got those two that don't run."

"They will run someday, Dad. But I promise, no more cars." Tony flashed a grin at Nathan. "Let's go."

Tony's interested questions and knowledge of cars soon warmed Emerson to him. Soon they were deep in conversation over one of the cars Frank's father had recently bought, and Nate took the opportunity to call Lupe.

"How are you, darlin'?"

"Wonderful. It's a slow afternoon, I think I can get off work a little early. What are you doing?"

"I'm still at Emerson's, bringing Frank oil filters and brake fluid and watching him talk to your brother about cars. I think they'll be announcing their engagement any day now."

Lupe laughed. "You know Tony and cars."

"Sure do. I should have introduced him to Frank sooner. What time do you want me to pick you up tonight?"

Nathan, having decided to fix dinner at the ranch, produced grilled fish, potatoes and a salad that impressed Lupe. "I wish you could teach my dad to cook," she teased him after dinner. "Tony says he's tried but Papa just isn't interested."

"Do you do most of the cooking, then?"

"Almost all of it. Unless I can nag Tony to do it."

Picking up his guitar, Nathan opened the screen door and beckoned her outside. "I'll do the dishes later. Come out on the porch for awhile."

Lupe leaned back against him with her eyes closed, listening to him play and enjoying the evening breeze. "It's wonderful here, Nathan," she commented when he finished. "So very peaceful. Do you like living here?"

"I really do. I've liked being on my own. It gets a little lonesome at night, but I really think I like being here better than being in town."

Lupe nodded in agreement. "I wish I could stay."

"I'd like you to stay, Lupe. If you want," he added hesitantly.

Lupe turned in Nathan's arms and smiled into his eyes. "I want to tell you something. When we started going out I was suspicious. I thought you'd lose interest in me, or that you'd meet somebody else… when I met you I didn't think I wanted to date anyone ever again. But I'm happier than I've ever been." Her expression turned serious. "I love you, Nathan."

"I love you too, Lupe. I don't feel like a whole person anymore without you. When I moved here I had no plans, no idea how long I would stay. But I know what I want to do with my life now. I want to spend it with you."

Lupe took his face in her hands and kissed him. After a few breathless minutes, she whispered, "I can't stay all night. Papa wouldn't like it. But I can stay for a while."

"Then maybe we should…"

"Yes. We should." A few moments later, as Nathan and Lupe vanished inside, a puzzled Oso was left alone on the porch staring through the screen door.

* * *

"Your grouping is getting better," Aaron commented to Agent McFadden, reviewing his target. He had suggested that they begin meeting weekly at the range the agents used for target practice. "It shows you take field duty seriously, and it'll get you meeting with the agents on a regular basis," he had explained.

Although Eric McFadden had not bothered with target practice in years, he had recognized the logic of Aaron's idea and quickly agreed. So far it seemed to be working: It was now common knowledge that Eric would be the next Director, and the initial reaction among most agents had not been enthusiastic. Aaron's public support of McFadden had been helpful in changing their minds; this, with Eric's efforts to be seen in the field more frequently, had improved most agents' attitudes toward the transition. Aaron's main problem was now to encourage McFadden to work more closely with Jon Cardona. This had been difficult at first since McFadden had his own assistant, an agent named Woods who seemed to spend most of his time agreeing with everything Eric McFadden said or did. Aaron had asked Jon for his opinion of Woods and had gotten a profanity-laced response that confirmed his own suspicions.

"That brown-nosing little…" Cardona sputtered. "He's a disgrace to the Service. Nothing but a damn bureaucrat. All he does is sit in meetings and make coffee for his boss."

"Kinda what I thought."

"I know you want me to work with McFadden, Aaron. And I'm trying. But that idiot Woods isn't going to let go of his gravy train without a fight, and I'm not going to stoop to his level. I don't have time to compliment the boss all day when there's work to be done."

"I'm not asking you to. But you might ask Eric for advice. Treat him as a mentor."

Jon snorted. "Advice about what? Why would I do that when I've got you?"

"I'm not going to be around much longer, Jon. I'll be retiring in less than a year. And you don't need me anyway, you know all there is to know about working in the field. I'm talking about administrative stuff. Getting promoted, the committees you might want to be on… I was never any good at that. It's a stroke of luck that I got promoted at all."

"You got promoted because you're the best there is. McFadden's all right. There's more to him than I thought there was. But it would have been great having you as Director, Aaron."

Aaron smiled. "Thanks, Jon. I appreciate it. But it's about more than just working with the agents. Meeting with Congress, fighting for funds for the budget and all that isn't my thing. Eric's a lot better at that than I am. He has the administrative strengths, but you have the field strengths. If I can just get him to realize that and maybe send Woods off to a Treasury post somewhere where he can't hurt anything, the two of you would make a really good team. You might wind up being Director some day yourself."

Jon looked first surprised, then thoughtful. "I guess I never really thought of it that way. Trish would love that!" he added with a laugh.

Now as they left the target range Aaron was wondering if this were the right time to discuss this with McFadden. "Jon's enjoying working with you, by the way," he began cautiously.

"Good! It's a pleasure working with him, too, Aaron. Very sound agent. He's taught me a lot I didn't know about field operations."

"He's been an incredible help to me, Eric. I'd really like to see him learn more about the administrative side of things so he could be more help to you after I leave. What's the name of your current assistant again?"

"Paul Woods. Do the two of you know each other?"

"Not really," Aaron replied neutrally.

McFadden, swept up in his good mood, became expansive. "He's a useful fellow to have around. He knows where the bodies are buried, if you know what I mean, what the current Washington gossip is, and I can bounce ideas off him anytime."

"Has he ever disagreed with you? About one of your ideas?"

McFadden came to a sudden stop. "What do you mean?"

"Has he ever told you something you didn't want to hear? Something that was important, that you needed to know?" Aaron waved Eric into his office and shut the door.

"Like what?"

"Did you ever, say, talk to him about wanting to be Director someday?"

"Why?" McFadden became defensive. "Are you saying I shouldn't have said that?"

"No, Eric, that's not my point. What I'm really trying to say is, I think Jon Cardona would be a better assistant director for you than Woods. Jon never hesitates to tell me if he thinks there's a better way for me to do something, and sometimes I need to hear that. Just humor me for a second. What did Woods say when you talked to him about your ambition to be Director?"

"He said I was a shoo-in. That there was no way Director Finch could even consider anybody else…" Eric's voice trailed off. "I think I see your point." He stood up and moved restlessly around the office, picked up Aaron and Martha's wedding photograph and stared at it for a moment. "I even talked to him about my marriage. My wife wanted to go for counseling. He said it was unnecessary." He put the photograph down again and turned away. "I see what you're saying, but it's not that easy. I've worked with Woods for years. I can't just dump him."

"I'm not asking you to dump him. Find him something else to do. Send him to Treasury; he can be helpful to you there. But part of being Director is making tough decisions, and I honestly believe this is something you need to do."

* * *

"He agreed," Aaron finished. "He really wasn't happy about it, but he understood. It's been easier working with Eric than I thought it would be. He seems to be more willing to listen."

"Well, he's been through some shakeups. Getting divorced, and finding out he wasn't the top choice for the job he wanted," Angie responded. "Maybe he's finally learning some stuff he needed to learn."

"It's never too late to learn. I guess I would be proof of that."

Angie patted him on the shoulder. "You're doing all right, Aaron. You've done great." It was her last day of work with Martha before leaving for Philadelphia and Aaron had left the office to come to lunch with them.

Martha leaned back and looked at the two of them with affection. "You've done so much for us, Angie. More than you'll ever know."

"Aaron gets the credit. It was his idea for me to interview with you in the first place. And I've really enjoyed working with you, Martha. It's been so much more fun than the Pentagon." Angie smiled. "Never a dull moment."

"I don't know if I can write my next book without you."

Aaron looked alarmed. "Next book?"

"My publisher told me way back before the book came out that he was hoping I could come up with another one. I told him I didn't think that I could, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. Angie just told me to write down all my ideas." Martha gave Aaron a wicked look. "Do you want to hear them?"

"Go ahead."

"A cookbook." Martha paused for Angie and Aaron's shouts of laughter. "Yes, I know, but I thought about it for a minute."

"_Sixty Ways to Fix Tuna_?"

"Oh, shut up, Aaron." Martha found herself laughing as well. "I'm not quite that bad."

"No, honey, no, you're not, but I just couldn't help it."

"You'll be happy to know that I gave up that idea. Then I thought about a novel."

Aaron stopped laughing. "That might work, but what about?"

"Well, I kept thinking about all the stories I saw and heard in Washington. But I couldn't figure out how to write about them without getting sued. Then I thought, why not move the action to Texas?"

"Sort of a riff on _Peyton Place_?" queried Angie.

"Exactly. It's so old it's new again. Plus, I think I can make it work. You know, draw the reader into the story, that sort of thing."

"Absolutely! You did that the first time around. Just make sure nobody can recognize the actual people, fictionalize them a bit and that would be great."

"I'll keep working on it. Just remember that we don't want this to be goodbye." Martha leaned forward to hug Angie. "You and Marie are welcome to visit us any time. Best of luck, Angie."


	15. Chapter 15

"I like this idea, Martha. The plot and characters sound really intriguing. How long do you think it would take you to finish a first draft?"

"A while. Several months. Aaron's going to retire in less than a year and I've got to get everything ready for our move." Martha drummed her fingers on the table for a moment. "At least it should go faster now that I've got your help, Elinor."

Elinor Rangell had edited Martha's first book prior to its publication. She had left her publishing job several months previously and Martha, urgently in need of an assistant after Angie's departure, had quickly hired Elinor as her agent. A demon organizer, Elinor had stepped up Martha's speaking schedule and used her publicity skills to secure a number of writing opportunities for her new employer: Martha had been thrilled to receive an invitation to write an article for the editorial page of the _Wall Street Journal_ on the role of women in Third World microeconomic policy. (When the article appeared, Aaron had declared his intention of framing it and hanging it in the living room.)

"Well, get to work. I need the money."

"Very funny. I hope I'll have time to write in Texas, when I'm not feeding the horses or doing laundry." Martha sighed.

"That doesn't sound like you'll have much time."

"I won't. Aaron's brother and sister-in-law are going to Hawaii for their anniversary and Aaron and I are staying at the ranch to keep an eye on things. Bill and Ann haven't had a vacation in years and it's time they did. Besides, we need the practice before we start running our own place."

Elinor groaned over the phone. "Small town. In-laws. I don't think I could handle it."

"I didn't think I could either when we first talked about it, but Aaron's family are wonderful people. And now that Aaron and his ex-wife are at least on speaking terms again –"

"Did you say _ex-wife?_ Oh my God, his ex lives there too?"

"Yes, she does. But she's got a new man in her life, and her son has moved back to town, and I think that's enough to keep her occupied and off our backs."

"That's a hell of a plot in itself, Martha."

"I'm not writing about my family, Elinor. The stories I have from Washington are more than enough. I'm just going to disguise the characters and move them to a small town. Besides, I think this trip will count as research. The more I learn, the more authentic the book will be."

"You might work in a few personal details here and there. But I'll leave that up to you. I'll check in with you about the book in a month. Okay?"

"Okay." Martha ended the call and sighed, thinking of the tasks ahead of her. She pulled up her email file and winced. Bill and Ann had sent her copious amounts of information, including their sons' school schedules, football practice dates, the veterinarian's phone number and a list of daily chores that needed to be done around the ranch. She felt apprehensive every time she read it, although she did not want to admit this to Aaron; it had been her idea to cover for Bill and Ann in the first place. Reminding herself that Gertrude and Nathan would both be there to help, Martha returned to her current chore: selecting clothing which could be stored at the ranch until their move.

_What are we going to do with all Aaron's suits when he retires?_ she thought, smiling. _Donate them, I suppose._ She made a mental note to ask Gertrude if her church collected used clothing and turned to her side of the closet, vowing to thin her wardrobe as much as possible.

* * *

"Tyler! Jason!" Ann called up the stairs. "It's dinnertime. Come down and bring your homework!" She turned to her mother-in-law with a weary sigh.

"I keep wondering if there's anything I've forgotten. We're leaving tomorrow and I just don't feel ready – "

"You're ready." Gertrude smiled. "You need this, Ann. Both you and Bill need a break."

"I'm really looking forward to it," Ann admitted. "Martha made all the hotel arrangements, got us a really good price… she knows somebody who's going to show us around Oahu, and she even put us in touch with somebody who has a cattle ranch on the Big Island. She thought Bill might like to see it."

"That's a good idea. I wouldn't be surprised if Bill got a little restless after a couple of days on the beach."

"If he does, he can go off and tour on his own. I might just sleep the entire week."

"Do that. Don't worry about us. If Martha and Aaron have questions, the boys know most of the answers and Nathan and I can handle the rest. And Tyler's old enough to drive now, that should make things a lot easier." As Tyler and Jason came into the kitchen, Ann waved them to the table and the conversation was suspended.

Martha and Aaron arrived at the Brooks ranch that evening to enthusiastic greetings from both Nathan and Oso. Nathan had fixed a late dinner and kept up a steady stream of conversation as they ate, mostly focused on his classes. On Bill's advice, he had begun taking online courses in agriculture and had found that several winegrowing classes were available.

"I'm majoring in viticulture. That's what they call it," he explained. "They gave me a military discount, too. With the credits I already had I should be able to get a degree in two years."

"That sounds wonderful, Nathan. And how's Lupe?"

"She's great. We're doing fine, and I think her dad has finally gotten to like me. Tony's got steady work now – Frank Emerson offered him a job at the auto yard, and that made Mr. Hernandez pretty happy." Nathan smiled. "I think he's okay with me and Lupe dating, now that he knows I'm in college and I'm going to be sticking around."

"You're staying, Nate?" Aaron's face lit up. "That's wonderful. We couldn't have asked for better news."

"Well, thanks." Nathan flushed. "Of course, when you move here next year I'll look for another place."

"But we'd like to have you stay, Nathan. Really," Martha added, "you don't have to move just because we'll be here."

"But if Lupe and I are together, and I'm hoping we will be, we'll need our own place." Nathan leaned back in his chair. "We've been talking about getting married next year sometime, after you move here."

At this news Aaron looked startled, Martha thrilled. "I'm so happy for you, Nathan!" she exclaimed.

"How long have you known each other again?" Aaron asked, more cautiously.

"We first met nearly two years ago, when I was still in the Navy. But we've been dating for over a year."

"And your finances…"

"Need work," Nathan admitted. "I haven't spent that much since I've moved here, and you've been paying me as caretaker. And Lupe has some money saved. But I've got to finish my degree, we'll have to find a place to live… the vines will need another couple of years to start producing."

"It sounds like you've been putting thought into this." Aaron looked reassured.

"I've put a lot of thought into it. We know we want to get married. The question is, how to make that happen."

"And how did your mother – I mean, what does she think?" Aaron amended his question.

"She doesn't know. You're the only ones who do. I just haven't wanted to get into it with her," Nathan admitted. "Call me a chicken if you want."

Martha shook her head. "That's going to be a difficult conversation."

"Yeah." Saying nothing more, Nate began clearing the table.

The next morning after hugs, kisses and farewells, Nathan ushered his aunt and uncle into his truck for the drive to the airport. Martha headed into the kitchen to clean up the breakfast dishes but soon found herself cornered by her nephews.

"Aunt Em, wanna go for a ride? You can take Candy!" thirteen-year-old Jason said enthusiastically.

"Aunt Em," added Tyler, "you think I could take the car and go into town later today? See my friends?"

"It depends who you're going to see. I had a chat with your dad before he left," Aaron broke in before Martha could answer. She closed her eyes in relief as Tyler groaned. "C'mon, Tyler. Sounds like he's right to be a little bit worried. That one kid you've been hanging out with doesn't have the best reputation."

"Ray isn't so bad, Uncle Aaron. He's done a couple of stupid things but he's all right. I just wish Dad would give him a chance."

"Why don't we have him over this week for dinner, then? And Martha, you and Jason go for that ride."

"Sounds good. I'll check supplies in the barn while we're at it," Martha responded, grabbing at the invitation to escape.

* * *

"Ugh. I am not going to be able to move tomorrow."

Martha was sprawled on the couch next to her mother-in-law, who laughed and replied, "I think you need a hot bath and an aspirin. In the morning you'll be fine."

"I haven't been on a horse in ages." Martha stretched her back experimentally. "That aspirin sounds good, Gertrude. I'll be sure and take one before I go to bed. By the way," she added cautiously, "what's with this friend of Tyler's? The one Bill's worried about?"

"I don't know all the details, but I know he's gotten suspended from school at least once. He's been caught drinking under the bleachers at football games a couple of times, and he doesn't do that well in school."

"That doesn't sound so good. But Tyler strikes me as the serious type. If he's standing up for this friend of his there must be more to him than that."

"I thought it was just teenage rebellion, but maybe you're right, Martha." Gertrude looked thoughtful. "Having him over for dinner might be a good idea."

* * *

Seeing that Tyler was slightly nervous about having Ray to dinner, Martha suggested inviting Nathan and Lupe as well to give the dinner more of a party atmosphere. She kept the menu simple: hamburgers, hot dogs and corn. Aaron and Nathan took turns manning the barbecue, giving her a chance to talk to Ray and Tyler casually. Though shorter than Tyler Ray had a wiry, self-reliant look to him and looked older than sixteen. _This boy looks like he's been on his own for a while,_ Martha thought. As Ray relaxed and began to talk more about himself she realized that this was correct: His mother had left years before and Ray was responsible for running the house.

"Dad works nights and he's out of town a lot, he drives a truck part time. We were both afraid I'd get put into foster care if anybody found out. So I learned to do the cooking and to keep the house clean, like somebody was actually there besides me." Gertrude and Martha winced, but Ray shrugged it off as a fact. "I try to keep up with school too, but this math stuff is getting a little past what I can understand. Tyler tries to help." He flashed a smile at his friend.

"I used to tutor somebody in math when I was your age," Gertrude said. "If you need help, Ray, you and Tyler can come over any time."

"That'd be real nice, Mrs. Pierce." Ray looked grateful. "I thought after I graduate I might try to start a housekeeping service, but I know my math needs some work before I can do that."

Toward the end of dinner Tyler whispered to his uncle that Ray wanted to talk to him. "He says it's about Nathan's girlfriend, Uncle Aaron." Aaron immediately beckoned them inside to the kitchen.

"Sit down, Ray. You said there was something you needed to tell me? About Lupe?"

"Yessir. I recognized her at dinner tonight. This isn't about her really, it's about that guy she used to be with. Jorge Herrera. I remember him real well." Ray began to look angry. "I heard what happened to Nathan, and I'm sorry but I'm not surprised. Jorge beat me up a few times too."

Aaron stared at the boy. "What for?"

"I used to run… errands for him." Ray shifted uneasily. "He never told me what for exactly, but I guessed. I started hanging with these guys a year, year and a half ago 'cause Dad wasn't home a lot and I didn't have anything better to do. So Jorge asked me if I wanted to make some extra money and I said sure. He showed me he had a knife and told me to do exactly what he said, that everything would be sealed and I wasn't to open anything or ask any questions, just pick up the stuff he told me to pick up and bring it to him."

"And you did what he said?"

"Uh huh. I didn't look at anything and I didn't try to steal anything. Some of it was small packages and some of it was bigger, like equipment. Sometimes I used my bike and sometimes I'd borrow my dad's truck."

"Without telling him."

Ray sighed. "Yeah. Well, Jorge was… sometimes I think he'd get high on his own stuff. If he was in a good mood he'd overpay me or buy me dinner. If he thought the guy had cheated him he'd blame me even though everything was still sealed. Or sometimes he'd just be in a bad mood for no reason. The last time I saw him I asked for my money and he hit me, then he pulled his knife on me. I really thought he was gonna use it." Despite the air conditioning in the house Ray had started to sweat. "One of his friends was there though and talked him out of it, told Jorge to give me the money and that they didn't need any trouble with the police. So he threw the money on the ground, told me to go to hell and walked away. That was the last time I saw him, I didn't want anything to do with him after that."

"You never had reason to think that Lupe was involved in this?"

"No, sir. I just saw her with him sometimes. He acted like a completely different guy when he was with her."

Aaron nodded. "Ray, I want you to talk to the police about this. Your dad and I will come with you." As the boy winced, he added, "They aren't going to arrest you and I'll explain things to your dad. But Jorge is still out there and the police need all the information they can get to catch him."

* * *

Ann woke to the sound of distant thunder, which confused her for a moment until she realized it was the sound of surf mixed with the rattle of wind in palm fronds. She smiled and lay back on the pillow, wondering sleepily whether to stay in bed or order breakfast. From behind her a warm arm moved around her waist.

"Mornin'." Bill kissed the back of her neck.

"Oh, Bill. Isn't it wonderful here?"

"It is, it's everything they said it was. I was kind of worried that Hawaii would be a letdown, honey. I didn't think it could be as great as they said. But it is. The food's not bad, either. That luau last night was fantastic."

"Except for the poi," Ann teased him.

"The poi I can live without. But the pork, and that salmon thing…"

"The _lomi lomi_."

"Mmm. Em's friend really knows his food. They can even make Spam taste good here."

"Wouldn't it be great to retire here?"

"It would. If we didn't have a ranch and a passel of kids." Bill sighed.

"It's just a dream."

"If anybody deserves to have their dreams come true it's you." Bill kissed the tip of her nose. "I can promise you one thing. We'll come back. I already know that for sure." He watched his wife's face light with happiness and smiled. "What would you like to do right now?"

"Well, I was thinking about staying in bed for awhile and then maybe we could go snorkeling later?"

"I like that. Especially the part about staying in bed for awhile." Bill reached under the bedclothes, making Ann giggle. "Just think, no kids to interrupt us. This could be the best part of the trip."

* * *

Aaron hung up the phone, smiling. "Barbara has a treat for us."

"What's that?"

"She wants us to have a 'date night'. She made a casserole, she's bringing her kids over and she says we aren't to do a thing except get dressed up and go out to dinner."

Martha dropped the laundry in her hands back onto the folding pile, closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "God bless Barbara. That sounds wonderful." After thinking for a moment, she added: "Where should we go?"

"Get dressed to dance. I know the perfect place."

Aaron was as good as his word. Martha marveled as she stepped inside the darkened restaurant: "So this is a supper club? I've haven't seen a restaurant like this since I was seventeen." She stroked the flocked wallpaper with a finger.

"It's old-fashioned, but the food's good and they have a great band. The same family's owned it for sixty years." He nodded to the hostess, a young woman whose eyes widened as she recognized Martha: "Jody, how's your mom doing?"

"Oh, she's fine, Mr. Pierce. Right this way, Mrs. Pierce, your table's over here." The hostess hastily led them to their table and handed them menus, then scurried back to the kitchen.

"She's the daughter of the owner," Aaron whispered. Noticing a few members of the restaurant staff peeking from behind the waitstation, he gave them a direct look and they quickly disappeared; fortunately Martha, studying the menu, had not noticed. Aaron began to worry that they might not be left alone during dinner. A few minutes later he was able to relax as the owner came out and quietly beckoned the staff away from their seating area, then took their order himself.

The band began tuning up as their main course was served, and Martha noticed that the restaurant had become quite crowded. "Do a lot of people come here to dance?"

"A lot. There are other places that have dancing and drinks, but no food. They tend to get a little rowdier. This is the married couples' place." They smiled at each other across the table, but then Martha was surprised to see her husband's expression change to shock.

She leaned across the table. "What is it?"

"Diane just walked in. With what's his name."

"Artie," Martha prompted, her memory kicking in from years of political training. "He works on the base and he got Diane her job. Nathan told us, remember?"

"Right, right. You're better at remembering this stuff than I am." Aaron continued to look uncomfortable and Martha took his hand.

"We might as well get used to it. Ambler Grove's not that big, Aaron, and we can't stay on the ranch the whole time. Just relax. We've been in much worse situations than this," she reminded him quietly.

His grasp on her hand tightened. "You're absolutely right. We're here to enjoy ourselves and we're going to." He glanced over his shoulder. "Is the band ready?"

"Ready!" she smiled.

"Then let's have a dance or two. We can get dessert later."

Half an hour later Martha closed her eyes in ecstasy. "This is _the_ best cheesecake I've ever had. Maybe you're right and we should each have gotten our own piece." Her "one cheesecake, two forks" order had gotten a chuckle from her husband.

"If we dance another hour, we can have another piece," Aaron offered.

"I'd love nothing better, but if we dance another hour Barbara will be climbing the walls." Martha sighed and sipped her coffee, then glanced up and quickly added, "Guess what."

"What?"

"Diane and Artie are headed over here."

Before Aaron could answer, Diane was standing at their table. "Hello, Aaron. Martha, it's good to see you," she said tentatively.

"Diane, Artie, how are you?" Not for the first time Martha thought wryly that her previous experience with awkward social situations had been good training for her. It enabled her to carry on conversations in difficult circumstances, as now, when Aaron was clearly having trouble coming up with something to say. She quickly realized that the situation was not as bad as it could have been: Diane was glowing with happiness and clearly in the mood to be kind to all the world.

"We're wonderful." Artie beamed and put his arm around Diane's shoulders. "We just got back from Las Vegas."

Martha looked from one of them to the other and gasped. "_Las Vegas?"_ She stared at Aaron, who merely looked bewildered. "Do you have something to tell us?"

"Yes! You guessed!" Diane looked thrilled and thrust her left hand toward Martha. "We got married!"

"Congratulations, Diane. That's wonderful," Aaron said sincerely. "I'm really happy for you – for both of you," he added, smiling at Artie.

"What a beautiful ring!" Martha added. "Tell us all about it." Aaron quickly asked a waiter for some extra chairs and gestured to Diane and Artie to sit down.

"Thank you. I'm still not back to earth. He completely surprised me. We went away for the weekend and while we were there, he just drove up to a wedding chapel and said 'How about it?' He'd even brought the ring along." She beamed at her husband. "And I said, 'Yes!'"

"Does anybody else in town know?"

"Not yet. We flew back this afternoon and decided to go out to dinner to celebrate. I was going to tell Gertrude and Nate tomorrow."

"We won't tell," Aaron promised. "I don't want to spoil your surprise. They're both going to be thrilled."

"Is everything okay? I heard you were keeping an eye on things for Bill."

"Everything's fine. The boys are good, Mom's fine and Bill and Ann will be home in a couple days. Nathan's been keeping busy," Aaron offered. "His latest project is building a wood-burning oven in the back yard. He wants to use it for pizza, bread, stuff like that."

"Nathan's a real do-it-yourself guy. He helped me build some shelves at our place." Artie smiled. "He's better at this sort of thing than I am."

Aaron backed out of the restaurant's parking lot and merged onto the main road. "Well, how about that," he observed, breaking the silence.

"I'll have to bite my tongue not to tell Barbara. For once we heard something before she did." This made Aaron laugh.

"Good for them. They look happy and Nathan gets along with him, so it's okay."

"Yes, I think everything's okay. What a week! It's been busy but it was so much fun, Aaron. Getting to know Tyler and Jason better, running a ranch by ourselves..."

"You didn't get much writing done."

"No, but I've made some notes and I'll just have to spend a month or two working hard on it when we get back. I have a better idea of how I want the plot to go." Martha looked at her husband. "We'll only have about seven more months till we move here. Can you believe that?"

"Time flies when you're having fun." Aaron squeezed his wife's hand. "And everything we do is fun."


	16. Chapter 16

Martha found herself increasingly impatient to be gone from Washington as the time for their move to Texas neared. Part of this had to be due to fatigue: Her last several months had been spent working intensively on her novel in addition to searching for a moving company, sending long emails to Nathan regarding the ranch and secretly planning a retirement party for her husband.

Jon Cardona was more than happy to assist her in this last project. "Just about everybody in the Service wants to be there, Martha. I'll request the large conference room – that ought to be big enough. I can have in-house catering set up a bar with sodas and juice, but we can't have alcohol at the party if it's held at work."

"That's fine with me. I just want to make sure everyone knows the party is open to anyone who wants to come, not just for the senior agents. Aaron's been so good with training the new agents, and I know how much they respect him. We don't need alcohol, but we do need food and lots of it. Those boys are going to eat a lot."

Jon looked dubious. "Our caterers don't run to much besides stale sandwiches and pasta salad."

Martha made a face. "You can leave that part to me. Just get me a head count and I'll take care of it."

Her efforts to keep the party a secret were made easier by a call from the White House. The word of Aaron's impending retirement had spread and President Palmer was eager to honor the man who had saved his life. Naturally, in Washington this meant a social event; the phone call from the President was soon followed by an engraved invitation to dinner with the Palmers and the Suvarovs, who were planning another visit to Washington. Aaron was stunned but pleased. "I didn't expect this," he said quietly, handing the invitation to his wife. "I really didn't."

"You deserve every bit of it," she responded, holding him tightly. "You deserve a ticker-tape parade up Pennsylvania Avenue. Maybe I'll throw you one."

"No, no." He chuckled. "I'll be just as happy without one, thanks. Just tell me you're happy and you don't mind leaving the city and moving to the country."

"I am happy, Aaron. Really and truly. Yes, there are things here they don't have in Texas. But if I get the urge to see opera or the theater, I'll go to New York once in a while." She shrugged. "It's no big deal. Besides, all my memories of Texas are happy. But my Washington memories are… more complicated. I'll be glad to get out of here."

For the last few months Aaron had been pondering the question of where Nathan and Lupe might live after their marriage. "It doesn't make a lot of sense for them to live in town," he had mused to his wife. "Nathan would just have to drive out to the ranch every day."

"But if they live with us and Lupe keeps working at her father's store, then she'd be the one to commute," Martha countered. "Her brothers don't seem that interested in the place. I wouldn't be surprised if she winds up running the store someday."

"Good point." Aaron hesitated. "The thing is, I had thought they might build their own place on the ranch property. We've got plenty of room."

Martha looked at him and smiled. "That's a wonderful idea, Aaron. But it's really up to them. Why don't you run it past Nathan and he can talk to Lupe about it?" Aaron agreed, and Nathan emailed back that he would discuss it with his (unofficial) fiancée.

Martha still had no idea whether either Diane or Lupe's father knew they were engaged, and this was beginning to bother her. _It isn't fair to Lupe,_ she thought. Still, she had seen firsthand that neither of their families was entirely happy about their relationship and she could not blame them for wanting to postpone news that might cause further upset.

* * *

Early on Martha had realized that her novel would be a much more difficult project than her memoir had been. She had begun by writing down all the Washington scandals she remembered and then went back to the ideas that particularly interested her. At first she had planned a story of small-town politics that would mirror Washington power struggles, but gradually she found it was the personal stories she remembered that interested her the most. It was the mistakes people had made that she could identify with, their interactions with others, their sometimes self-destructive behavior. (She had included a few mistakes of her own, just to be fair.) She sat back, reviewed her notes and found two characters emerging: the mayor of the town and his main business and political rival. As they became more real to her she realized that the story had completely changed from her original idea. Her enthusiasm grew and she had no difficulty finding ideas for two-thirds of the novel. In the last few weeks, though, her writing had slowed. _How is this going to end?_ she thought. _I have no idea what's going to happen to these people._ Aaron had suggested that she give herself a few weeks off before going back to the novel and to approach it as if she had never read it before. "If you do that, you'll see where it's all going," he said. Martha had agreed and turned her thoughts to a final, personal issue. She had to dispose of Charles' personal effects, still in storage.

Five years previously in the chaos surrounding his downfall and disgrace she had wanted nothing to do with them. The White House staff had packed his clothing and personal items away and presented her with the keys to the storage facility. Her energies absorbed by the task of putting her life back together, she had tossed them into her desk and tried to forget that they were there. Even after Charles' death, when the prison warden had presented her with his handwritten will naming her sole heir to his estate, she had ignored the issue; all items of any real value were gone, liquidated to pay the civil judgments filed against him. The will was short, a few scribbled lines witnessed by the warden and his assistant.

"He ran it past an attorney who'd come to see some other client. They told him it was fine," the warden had said. "Then he left it with me and said it was to go to you in case anything happened to him."

_Thanks for nothing,_ Martha had thought bitterly. _Just another chore for me to do, is that it, Charles?_ But she had known that there was no one else to help, that she would be responsible for this just as she had been for his funeral. Feeling depressed and unable to cope, she had told herself she would clear everything out of the storage unit after her wedding. Then she had put it off until after she'd finished her first book. By then she had simply forgotten except when the quarterly bills came from the company. She knew it was ridiculous to keep paying storage fees for her ex-husband's personal belongings, but she preferred that to the idea of sifting through his things. _I should have gotten Angie to help me,_ she berated herself. But Angie was now in Philadelphia and she was not about to ask Aaron to help her. The impending deadline of the move finally pushed her to go.

She had half dreaded what she might find as she sorted through Charles' clothing and personal items – something that might tug at her heartstrings, or some clue to the conspiracy that had destroyed him. After going through the first box she was relieved: she wasn't being assaulted by memories. It was as if a distant relative had died rather than her husband. She found nothing aside from some loose change in his pockets, a few photos of them together and a note she had scribbled to him years before.

_Charles:_

_I couldn't wait any longer. I'll leave your ticket at the box office and you can pick it up there. If you don't make it, don't wait up for me._

Marty

She couldn't remember the occasion, but there had been so many nights when Charles was out campaigning or fundraising without her that it really didn't matter. She noted the irregularity of her handwriting – had she been angry? Or partly drunk? She sighed, laid the note aside and continued to fold and pack while her mind wandered back to her novel.

Then it came to her: what if one of her characters found a similar note? What would it say? What if, for instance, the mayor found a note from his wife's lover? She quickly jotted this idea down and opened the last few boxes while she speculated. Having returned the keys and dropped everything off at the nearest Goodwill, she stretched with relief and thought: _Maybe these clothes can finally do somebody some good. I should have done this sooner._

* * *

The day before Aaron was to leave the Service Jon walked into his office with a carefully manufactured sour look on his face. "Director McFadden wants to see you in the conference room," he announced.

"I was just about ready to leave for the day. What's going on?"

"I think he has questions about the hiring estimates for next year. He said specifically that he wanted to talk to you."

Aaron gave a grunt of annoyance. "All right." He began to head toward McFadden's office, but Jon corrected him. "He's in the conference room."

"SURPRISE!" Aaron stopped dead in the doorway, not believing his eyes. The conference room was decorated with crepe paper streamers and banners; Martha was there, beaming at him; and the room was crowded with agents. Someone began to sing "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" and the rest of the room chimed in, then applauded as Martha ran to hug him.

"Are you surprised?" she laughed.

"Very. Jon, were you in on this?"

"Pretty much from the start. It was Martha's idea, but I helped her out here and there."

His arm around his wife's shoulders, Aaron surveyed the room, shook his head, and laughed. "Well, you did a great job. Both of you. Let's have this party!" As well-wishing agents crowded around him, he began shaking hands. Eric McFadden handed him a wrapped box.

"This is a gift from the staff, Aaron. They all chipped in for it."

Aaron opened the box and blinked in surprise. "This is the nicest watch I've ever seen. Thank you, all of you." He looked around for a moment and then continued. "A few years ago I had a bad experience. I'm sure you all know what I'm talking about. I almost quit the Service after that, but my wife – she wasn't my wife then – talked me out of it. I bring this up now to tell you that she was right, and I was wrong. Whatever I've done here I haven't done alone. I had my wife's support, and Jon's support, and yours. Each one of us needs to do the very best he can, but together we're the best there is. I want you all to remember that."

Later that evening Martha saw Aaron admiring the watch on his wrist and smiled. "That's gorgeous," she commented, climbing onto his lap. "I think Eric McFadden picked it out."

Aaron slid his arms around her. "I can't stop looking at it. I'm almost afraid to wear it. I'll scratch the crystal, or something."

"No you won't. It's waterproof, crashproof, and everything else-proof. Go ahead and wear it." She kissed him. "Does tomorrow feel like the last day of school?"

"It sort of does. You know, I really never thought this day would come. I've been in the Service for so long, seen so many things happen…" he shook his head, looking back. "I keep wondering if they're going to manage without me. I know that's silly."

"They will manage without you, but it isn't silly. It won't be the same without you, but you won't be completely gone. Jon will still be here, Agent Mitchell will be here. They've learned from you. Even Eric learned from you. You're leaving a legacy behind, and years from now when Mitchell is training some new recruit he's going to be using what you taught him." She cradled Aaron's head against her as he held her close.

"That's what I needed to hear." He leaned back and smiled. "Now I can focus on you."

"You've always focused on me." She tickled his ear. "Now you can think about grapevines and sheep and things like that instead of budgets and Washington politics."

"Right now I'm thinking about packing. It looks like you're nearly done. Are we going to take the furniture with us?"

"Your chair, of course, we'll take that. Anything else you're worried about?"

"I kind of wanted to take the sofa."

"Oh, the sofa," she smiled. "I think we should take that, too. It has a lot of, um… sentimental value."

"It does." Aaron trailed a finger down her neck. "In fact, I think we should go get on there right now. Once we're in Texas we won't have quite the same opportunities we have here." He began loosening the belt of her robe.

"That's a wonderful idea." She shrugged out of the robe, let it drop to her waist and smiled teasingly. "I bet I can get undressed faster than you can."

Aaron lay awake, thinking, late into the night. He had lived in Washington for nearly thirty years and the city was as familiar to him as his home town. Still, he had so few memories of exploring the city before he had married Martha. He recalled a trip to the Smithsonian with Nathan's third-grade class; he had spent a great deal of time at the Pentagon and, of course, nearly every day at the White House. But this had been for work and not pleasure. He had rarely visited museums or eaten at any of Washington's fashionable restaurants and almost never socialized, especially after Diane had left. With Martha at his side he had suddenly discovered things about the city he had never noticed before. He had enjoyed himself immensely and was surprised to find himself almost regretting their move. He reminded himself that in Texas their positions would be reversed; he would be able to introduce Martha to everything he loved best about Ambler Grove and farm life. He fell asleep smiling in anticipation.

* * *

The dinner at the White House was Martha and Aaron's last evening in Washington. Aaron had been slightly nervous about attending such a formal occasion, but soon relaxed under the warm welcome of the Palmers. The Suvarovs, too, were glad to see them. Martha had the feeling that both Presidents had been looking forward to this evening as a break from their discussion of the worsening political situation in Russia; from all accounts their conference had been marked by tension, as Palmer objected to Suvarov's increasingly autocratic rule. However Suvarov, surrounded by power-hungry military commanders, had very little choice in the matter and his expression of grim fatigue worried both Martha and Aaron.

For their dinner the First Lady had chosen a simple menu served in the smaller, less formal dining room. By mutual consent everyone avoided politics and Martha did her best to keep the conversation on neutral topics such as the success of Aaron's surprise party and their plans for the ranch in Texas. The room's atmosphere lightened and by the end of dinner everyone was laughing and chatting like old friends. Still, the undercurrent of stress had exhausted her and she gave a quiet sigh of relief as they walked out the door of the White House for the last time.

The next morning went quickly. Aaron did the final packing and directed the movers as Martha met with the building supervisor and made sure their plane tickets were in her purse. As the moving van pulled away Aaron looked at her and smiled. "Ready to go home?"

She took his hand. "Yes, I am. It's time to go."

* * *

A few days later Martha took a break from unpacking to sit on the porch brushing Oso. Remembering Nathan's warning about overfeeding the dog, she had decided to try brushing him as a treat instead. She purchased the best grooming brush she could find and talked to him quietly during the process. Oso enjoyed the attention immensely, and Nathan admitted that his coat had never looked better.

As she sat on the porch she wondered idly how soon she would be able to get back to finishing her novel. Oso nudged her hand impatiently and she laughed, picking up the brush again. "You are a spoiled dog," she said teasingly, but she only managed a couple of strokes before Oso pricked his ears and rose to his feet. Following his gaze, she saw a car coming around the corner of the driveway: it was Barbara.

"Em, honey! It's so good to have you here! Are you happy?"

"I'm thrilled, Barbara. It's hard to be split between two places. Now we can give the ranch the attention it needs, and Aaron's got a second career ahead of him… this is going to be great for both of us." Martha and Barbara were sitting in the kitchen with glasses of tea while Barbara's children happily played with Oso. "And I think I'll have a little more time here to finish my book."

"That's kind of what I came to talk to you about. Just to warn you."

"Warn me?"

"Maybe that's too strong a word. But Ambler Grove is a small place and a lot of what happens here runs on volunteers. Mother's already had people asking her if you're going to be active in the community. Will you be in church this weekend?"

"I suppose so." Martha caught her sister-in-law's raised eyebrow and amended herself. "We'll definitely be there. What time?"

Barbara grinned. "Ten. After church at coffee hour is when you've got to be careful. Before you know it they'll have you signed up to do six different things."

"_Six?_ Barbara, we've got a ranch to run, a crop to raise and I've got to finish that book or my editor will kill me!"

"I'll stick with you. Tell them you have a deadline to meet. But you'll have to volunteer for at least one thing if you want to fit in around here. It's what we do."

"I understand what you're saying. We're going to be here the rest of our lives, and I do want to be part of the community. I just didn't see it happening quite so fast."

"You're fresh blood and you're a celebrity. I hope you don't mind me being blunt."

"I need you to be blunt. I need to know what to expect. This is starting to feel like when I first got to Washington, except I didn't have anybody I could trust to show me the ropes."

"Well, relax. You've got me, you have Ann and Mother. Just call us if you need us. We'll see you Sunday."


	17. Chapter 17

_Sorry about the long delay in chapters, I took a break. I hope someone's still reading!_

That Sunday Martha found herself apprehensive when they arrived (on time, thanks to Aaron) at church. Surrounded by her in-laws and husband, she sat through the service glancing stealthily around the congregation but saw no one staring at her. Slowly she began to relax, but then blushed as the minister made an arch reference to "our new members from Washington" and added, "I'm sure y'all will make them welcome after the service."

"That's coffee hour," Barbara hissed on her left, ignoring her mother's frown.

"You'll have to stay with me," Martha muttered in response. She felt her husband chuckle on her other side and clutched his hand as he whispered, "You'll be fine."

Half an hour later Martha found herself smiling and chatting with a seemingly endless stream of people while holding a styrofoam cup of coffee. Still, it could have been worse: she had had nightmares of being surrounded by every woman in the congregation insisting that she volunteer for their committee, or club, or organization. Gertrude, Barbara and Ann had exerted their diplomatic skills on the various applicants and suggested various options, all based on the minimum of effort and maximum of participants. ("It only meets twice a month, Martha, and practically every woman here belongs," Gertrude had advised of the meals for shut-ins program.)

"So. How's it going?" Diane had sauntered up, nodding to Ann and Barbara, and kissing Gertrude on the cheek.

"Okay, I think. Everyone's been very kind. It's a little overwhelming – I didn't realize there would be such a difference between being a visitor and living here."

"It's a close community. When you farm, it's understood you help your neighbors and they help you. And in town we do the same."

"How are things at the base?" This question diverted Diane into a discussion of her job and her hopes that Artie would soon get a raise. The coffee hour broke up soon afterwards and Martha, sighing with relief, slumped into the front seat of the car. Nathan, who had come to church with them, patted her shoulder from behind.

"C'mon, Em. It isn't so bad. You'll get used to it," he advised. "People just spend more time together here. I like it that way myself."

"I'm sure I will get used to it, Nathan. It's just not quite what I expected. I don't want to isolate myself, but I'm beginning to be afraid I'll get so tied up that I'll never get the book finished. But you're right, this isn't anything to worry about. I'm not going to overreact."

Bill and Ann were hosting Sunday lunch for the family to celebrate Aaron and Martha's move back to Texas. Martha's tension lessened as she listened to the whirl of household activity while setting the table. _This is a lot better than Washington,_ she reminded herself. _Just relax._

After lunch Jason and Tyler excused themselves, flashing conspiratorial smiles at their father. Martha was faintly surprised that they hadn't waited for dessert, but Bill poured her a second cup of coffee and asked how their unpacking was going. This turned the conversation to the topic of the move for several minutes until Tyler rapped at the window and mouthed, "We're ready."

"C'mon, Em." Bill rose from the table and gestured her outside. "You too, Aaron. We've got something to show you." Bill's truck and horse trailer were parked in the driveway, and beside it stood Tyler holding Candy by her bridle.

Martha was puzzled. "What's this, Bill? I don't understand."

"Surprise, Aunt Martha!" Jason shouted excitedly. "We're giving you Candy. She's your welcome home present!"

"Bill!" Martha gasped. "I can't accept – I mean, she's much too valuable!" She patted Candy's shoulder; the mare stretched her neck and snorted softly, swishing her tail.

Bill grinned. "She's happier with you, Em. She always has been. And we've gotten a couple of terrific foals from her that are growing up just fine. Our stable's getting crowded, and it just seemed like the right thing to do. Candy's our way of saying thanks for all you've done for us, and we're glad you're here."

Martha threw her arms around Bill, who turned pink, and then both Tyler and Jason. "She's beautiful. I don't know what to say. Aaron, isn't she gorgeous!"

"She is. Bill, thank you. This is just amazing." Aaron glanced at his son. "Nathan, is this why you've been so busy in the barn all week?"

"It is." Nate laughed. "I've got you stocked up with hay, bedding, everything you'll need. Even saddle soap!"

"Well, we've got a dog and a horse. I guess that means we qualify as a working ranch now," Aaron quipped. He looked again at the happiness on his wife's face and turned back to his brother. "Really, Bill, I can't thank you enough. Candy's just what she needed," he added in a lowered voice.

"I know she's missed having horses. She told me. Candy will keep her busy, give her a chance to settle in. You might want to think about buying one yourself, give you a chance to go riding together."

"Good idea. I'll look into it."

* * *

That evening Aaron walked into the barn to find Martha leaning over the lower half of the door to Candy's stall, feeding her a carrot. He slid his arm around her waist. "Are you going to stay here all night?"

Martha looked guilty. "What time is it?"

"It's after seven-thirty. Nate's got dinner just about ready."

"I guess I didn't realize what time it was. I still can't believe I have my own horse. I have a _horse_!" She hugged him.

"I might get one, too. Bill knows the best breeders and he said he'd help me look. Then we could ride together. It'd be handy for keeping an eye on the property, without having to take the truck out every day."

"That would be lovely. You know what else? We should get some chickens."

Aaron blinked. "Chickens?"

"I was talking to Ann this afternoon and she told me they used to raise chickens but they don't have time any more. She says they aren't much trouble, and she loved having the eggs. Chickens, and a garden. Then I think we'll be all set."

"Is this the woman who was worried about overcommitting herself a few hours ago?"

Martha laughed. "I know. But I don't mean we have to do all this right away. I'm just enjoying thinking about it."

"We used to have chickens when I was growing up." Aaron looked thoughtful. "They'll eat just about anything. We'd need to build a coop and fence off an area for them to run around in, but that wouldn't be too hard."

The following morning Nathan was surprised to find several cars parked on the road just outside the gate to the ranch. One or two people held cameras; their eager expressions turned somewhat disappointed as he drove past. He reached for his phone.

"Dad, I think I should let you know there's some people outside the gate. I think they're looking for Em."

"_What?_"

"They have cameras."

"Oh, no." There was a pause. "I should have thought of this, but I didn't. Thanks for letting me know, Nate. We're going to have to spend some money on a bigger fence and a better gate."

"They look harmless, Dad. They aren't trying to break in or anything."

"That's good, but we can't rely on that. I spent years keeping the public away from politicians, and I know 99 percent of these people are harmless. It's that one percent we have to worry about. I'm going to let Em know and I'll give the police a call later on."

"Okay." Nathan clicked off and swung onto the road to town.

Aaron walked into the small upstairs bedroom Martha had claimed as her office. Seeing her bent over a printout of her novel, he felt a pang knowing he was going to upset her. "How's it going?" he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders.

She took off her reading glasses and smiled at him. "Pretty well. I was just emailing Elinor – she wants to meet with me to review the final draft of the book."

"Does that mean you're going to have to fly back East?"

"Not necessarily. She's interested in seeing the ranch and getting out of the city for a bit. I think she'd agree to come here."

"Great. I'd hate for you to have to leave after we just got here." Aaron cleared his throat. "I just got a call from Nathan, that's why I came in to talk to you. He says as he was driving out the gate he noticed some people at the side of the road. He thinks –"

The phone rang. Grimacing in annoyance, Martha answered it. "Pierce Ranch. Hello?"

Aaron heard a stream of high-pitched gabbling from the other end of the line. Looking confused, Martha tried to sort it out: "Myra Louise? Yes. Yes, we met yesterday at church… I remember you mentioned your husband's relatives were visiting. They're _where?_" There was a pause. "I see. I think my husband was just about to tell me the same thing. Nathan saw them as he was leaving for town." Another pause, as Martha rolled her eyes at her husband. Finally, in a somewhat firmer voice, she said: "I understand, and I'd be happy to talk to them for a few minutes." She waved her hand at Aaron, who had started to object. "The truth is, Myra Louise, I have a deadline on my book and I have to meet with my agent soon. But what's more important is my family. We need our privacy, and they didn't bargain for this when I moved here. I need you to promise and make your in-laws promise that they won't go spreading my address around. If you get them to do that I'll be out in ten minutes." She hung up with a sigh.

"I don't know about this, Martha."

She squeezed his hand. "Believe me, I know. And I have better things to do than to go out and sign autographs. But it sounds like her husband spilled the beans, not her. And I think it would count as a goodwill gesture, plus if I make them happy they're more likely to keep quiet about where we live."

"I told Nathan we need better fencing and a better gate. Maybe closed circuit TV out there as well."

"Whatever you think is best. Just promise me no cinderblock walls and barbed wire," Martha teased, hoping to bring a smile to his face. "Look at it this way. If we had moved sooner it would have been more of a problem. I'm not as much in the public eye as I used to be. And if Anne Rice can live in the middle of New Orleans and not get mobbed by _her_ fans, I don't think we'll have a problem."

"Who's Anne Rice?"

"A writer who's much more popular than I am or ever will be." Martha stood up. "Now I've got to do something with my hair and go out and talk to these people. Wish me luck."

"I'm going with you," Aaron said firmly. "I'm taking no risks where you're concerned." He half expected Martha to lose her temper, but instead she gave him a beaming smile and a kiss.

"You never do. The only thing that's bothering me about this is that it worries you. I've been enough of a burden on you as it is. I hoped once we got here you wouldn't have to worry about me anymore."

"A burden! Don't say that." He hugged her tightly. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

* * *

"So how's life with a celebrity?" Lupe asked teasingly.

"Not nearly as exciting as you'd think," Nathan replied with a grin. "Em's always either working on her book, getting the guest room ready or out riding Candy. She got hold of a book on raising chickens and she reads it to us every morning over breakfast. That's her latest idea. She promised not to buy any until after the book comes out, though." He and Lupe had planned to break the news of their engagement over dinner with her family. Nathan had been slightly apprehensive about telling Lupe's father, but Mr. Hernandez had mellowed over dinner and was happy to keep the conversation going.

"She is a fine looking woman," he commented with a sigh. "And kind. Your father is a lucky man."

"Yes, he is. They're very happy, and I'm glad he found someone who suits him so well." Nate jumped up to help Lupe clear the table as Tony brought dessert; as they sat down again he gave her a smile and took a deep breath. As calmly as he could, he said, "Mr. Hernandez, Lupe and I have decided to get married." Tony's jaw dropped, but his excited grin nerved Nathan to continue: "I've known for a long time that she's the only one who could make me happy. I hope we have your approval."

Raymond Hernandez looked down at the table for a moment, then turned to his daughter; his expression was hard to read. "Lupe," he asked after a moment, "is this what you want? Are you happy?"

"I've never been happier, Papa." Lupe took Nathan's hand. "I know Nathan is right for me, and I think I'm right for him too."

Her father nodded. "Very well. Lupe has told me more than once that you are a good man, Nathan. I had my own ideas about wanting her to marry – you know that – but I was wrong. Welcome to the family." He shook Nathan's hand, wincing at Tony's whoop of joy. "Tony! This is a serious matter," he began, but broke off as Lupe hugged him. He sighed. "I'm truly happy for you, but I wish your mother were here. I wish she could meet Nathan."

Tears came to Lupe's eyes. "I do too, Papa."

In the meantime Tony was pounding his future brother-in-law on the back. "Nate, this is fantastic! Does your family know?"

"My dad and Em know. I haven't told anybody else yet."

Hernandez raised an eyebrow. "Not your mother?"

"We're going to tell her next. We wanted you to know first," Nathan added, feeling he had scored a diplomatic point.

Hernandez smiled faintly. "That is kind, but we cannot start planning the wedding until your family knows."

"I'll talk to her this weekend." Inwardly, Nathan braced himself for what he knew would be a difficult conversation.

* * *

"So, Elinor. What do you think?" Martha asked. Her agent's tense personality had relaxed somewhat since her arrival, though the barn tour had not gone well. ("Horses make me nervous," Elinor had commented. In answer Candy had snorted and backed to the rear of her stall.)

"I think the house is lovely, and I think you look really relaxed. I'm surprised, Martha, really. You always struck me as the urban type." Elinor cautiously patted Oso, who was watching her with interest.

"I'm not as urban as you think. Charles and I used to have a ranch before, you know. But we hardly spent any time there and it didn't feel like it was mine. Now Aaron, Nathan and I make all the decisions and we run it ourselves. That really makes a difference."

"And what do you do for social life?"

"You expect me to have a social life? I thought you wanted me to finish the book!" Martha retorted.

Elinor laughed, but persisted. "Seriously, what do people do here?"

"We spend a lot of time with Aaron's family. Which I enjoy," Martha added firmly. "We have dinner there or they come here once a week. And sometimes Aaron and I go dancing, or we go to a coffeehouse in town where Nathan plays guitar some nights. We usually sit with his girlfriend, she's there every week. And Aaron's oldest nephew is on the high school football team; when the season starts again we'll go to the games. And I've signed up to do some volunteer work. So we keep busy."

"It sounds like it. It sounds kind of nice. Right now I don't have time to do anything but work." Elinor slumped onto the couch.

"How's the agency?"

"Things are pretty good. To be honest, having you as a client has helped a lot. I've got an assistant now who's holding the fort for the next couple of days while I'm here. Guardian has first refusal rights on the book, as you know, and Steve Adler and Martin Andrews have both been breathing down my neck to get a report on it."

Martha remembered Adler and Andrews well from her prior experience with Guardian Publishing. "You still talk to them? Since you left, I mean?"

"Oh, yes. They've even recommended a few of their clients to me who were looking for new agents. We didn't part on bad terms. I just really wanted to start my own business."

"That's great. I'm glad to hear this is working out for you. Let me get the book and we can get started," Martha began, then stopped at the sound of the kitchen door slamming. A moment later Nathan stalked in looking angrier than she had ever seen him. As he caught sight of Martha and Elinor his expression changed.

"Hi," he said lamely. "I wasn't expecting – I thought you'd still be at the airport."

"Is everything all right, Nathan?"

"No, everything is not all right. I just came from talking to Mom. I told her that Lupe and I were getting married. It didn't go very well."

"Tell you what, Martha. I'm going to go unpack and we can talk a little later," Elinor offered.

"Thanks, Elinor, I'll be right there," Martha responded as she waved her stepson to the kitchen table. Handing him a soda, she sat down herself. "Now tell me. What went wrong?"


	18. Chapter 18

_Sorry for the long delay... here's Chapter 18!_

Nathan sighed. "I hate to bother you with this, Em. It's really not your problem."

"If I'm part of this family then yes, it is. I'm concerned about you and Lupe. I don't want to take sides, that's not going to help. But if you need to talk to somebody… I'm here."

Nathan nodded. "Well, part of it is I think Mom is just plain terrified that she's going to lose me again. I was away for eight years and when I first moved back to Ambler Grove I wasn't planning to stay. Since I've been spending time with her and Art she's been really happy. But the last few months, knowing you guys were moving back, she's gotten sort of edgy. She made a few sarcastic remarks about Dad running the ranch and asking me how much longer would I be living with you, that sort of thing. I told her about your idea to build another house on the property but she didn't seem too happy with that either."

"Your grandmother told me it meant a lot to Diane when you moved back. Maybe she's afraid she's going to be left out."

"But she's my mother! I would never let that happen. And this isn't some sort of custody battle. I'm not a kid anymore."

"I think maybe it is, Nathan. I think this is the custody battle you sidestepped when you joined the Navy." Martha sighed. "I know it sounds crazy, but it wouldn't surprise me. And now she isn't just fighting your dad, she's fighting your fiancée."

"Lupe would like to be closer to Mom. When her mother got sick she had to step up, run the house and sort of be a parent to Tony, and that was hard for her. I wish Mom would understand that and be more supportive. We could really use her help with planning the wedding. And that's the other thing." Nathan looked uncomfortable. "Mr. Hernandez really wants this to be a Catholic wedding, and I said that was fine with me. But I don't think Grandma's going to be happy about it, and Mom sure isn't."

"Let's give it some time to sink in. Maybe your mom will want to talk to your dad about this and maybe not. In the meantime, I've got to meet with Elinor and start thinking about dinner."

"I'll take care of dinner, Em. You go ahead and talk to Elinor. I could use the distraction right about now." Nathan got up and headed to the refrigerator.

Late that night Martha slumped into bed next to her husband. Giving vent to a deep sigh, she thumped her pillow with her fist, turned on her side and stared into the darkness. After a moment she felt a gentle poke on her back.

"So how'd it go?"

"Frustrating. The good news is she really liked it. The bad news is she says the rewriting I've done isn't enough. She still feels the plot needs work."

Aaron gave a sigh of sympathy. "Huh. Do you think she's right?"

"Yes. Damn it. It's better but it's still missing something." She turned over and put her arm across Aaron's waist. "Did you get a chance to talk to Nathan today?"

"Yes." He said nothing more, but sensing his concern she began to stroke his chest. This encouraged him to continue: "I don't know whether to step in or not. It might only make things worse."

"I thought it might help to wait a day or so. Let it sink in and give her a chance to cool off. She might decide to come talk to you, or to your mother."

He took her hand and kissed it. "You always give the best advice. I don't know what I ever did without you."

Martha laughed, pleased. "Really?"

"Really."

"Well, my advice is that we get a good night's sleep and we'll be able to deal with this better in the morning. How's that sound?"

He kissed her forehead. "Sounds good." They lay in silence for a few minutes listening to the wind blowing through the pines. "It's good to be home," he whispered, and a minute later Martha could tell from Aaron's breathing that he was asleep.

* * *

Jennifer, now employed as an assistant at Neil Roston's design studio, returned to the ranch for a visit the following week. She was now clearly an adult, confident and smiling, instead of the sullen teenager Martha remembered from her first visit. "She's all grown up, Em," Bill muttered, shaking his head. "And Tyler starts his senior year soon. It feels like just the other day they were babies. Where'd the time go?"

But Jennifer was happy to be home, showering her family with gifts: scarves, belts and purses. "Design samples," she explained to Martha. "After we show them to the clients they just sit around until we either throw them out or give them away." She was thrilled to hear of her cousin's engagement and bestowed a matching scarf and purse on him to give to Lupe. Nathan thanked her profusely and tried to turn the subject, not wanting to discuss his mother's attitude toward his engagement. His efforts were in vain: it had taken Jennifer less than five minutes with her Aunt Barbara to be brought up to date on the family drama. She shrugged off his questions about her apartment and roommates and returned to Diane, not normally one of her favorite topics.

"Nathan, why is your mom acting like this?"

"Like what?" he parried.

Jennifer put her hands on her hips and scowled at him. "Aunt Barbara told me. Aren't you mad?"

"You look exactly like you did when you were twelve and pissed off about something. Stop it."

"I'm not trying to upset you." Jennifer realized that she had gone too far. "I just thought, you know, you might want to talk to me. You used to talk to me. Remember? When you were thinking about joining the Navy?"

"Yeah." Nathan sighed. "I'm sorry. I just, you know, I'm thinking about it all the time. And I've talked to Dad, and Em, and Grandma. And right now I just want to think about something else for a change."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Have you thought about going to Las Vegas or something? Eloping sounds kind of romantic."

"Jen! This isn't _West Side Story_. This is real life. Eloping wouldn't solve anything, it would just upset everybody even more than they already are. Lupe doesn't want that kind of wedding and I don't either. I want a family wedding, like Dad and Em had. I think it'll be all right if we just hang on and give it some time. Now I want to hear about what you're doing, okay? What's your crazy roommate up to?"

Martha had come to enjoy her volunteering sessions at the meals for shut-ins program, as it gave her a chance to hear the local news and get to know several of Ann and Barbara's friends. Ann was now volunteering as a "team mom" with Tyler's football squad and was happy to let Martha drive Gertrude to town in her place. As they finished Diane, who had been quiet and preoccupied all morning, approached her.

"Martha, I need to talk to Gertrude about something. I'd like to take her out for coffee. I'll drive her home later. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Martha answered promptly. She gave Gertrude a hug and saw her off, feeling sure she knew what their discussion would involve. Relations between Nate and his mother had not improved since he had broken the news to her that he and Lupe were getting married.

Gertrude's favorite spot for coffee was the Dairy Nook. A charming but slightly rundown café, it had been a fixture in town for over seventy years; the original owners had been neighbors of her parents. A few years ago new competition had arrived in the form of a Starbucks, the very thought of which caused Gertrude to shake her head and mutter imprecations against the chain. Diane, knowing this, did not suggest any option but the Dairy Nook for their outing. A short time later they were seated on a banquette and Gertrude was happily adding milk to her coffee. "Nothing's changed," she observed. "It still looks the way it did when Bill and Aaron were small."

Diane agreed, though with less enthusiasm as she eyed the dated furnishings. "Gertrude," she began, "I asked you here because I need to talk to you. I don't know what to do about Nathan."

"If you're talking about changing his mind, there's nothing you can do," Gertrude answered simply. "His choice is his choice. The question is are you going to accept it?"

"But I can't. I can't just accept it. Nathan thinks I'm upset about it because she's Mexican, but I've got bigger issues than that. This is the first serious relationship he's ever had, and he ran straight into this after getting out of the Navy. It's the timing that worries me."

"They've been going together almost two years, haven't they? If he'd only been seeing her for a few months I could understand your concern. And they're old enough to know what they're doing. I've met the girl, Diane. She seems nice enough, and responsible with it. She didn't strike me as just a pretty face."

Diane shifted uneasily. "You're saying I just have to put up with it?"

Gertrude shook her head. "You're going to have to do better than that. How you handle this is important. Listen, Diane. I've talked to Nathan enough to know he's going to marry this girl no matter what. He wants you to be happy about it, but if you're not he's still going to marry her. The only thing you're going to do if you fight this marriage is damage your relationship with him, and I know that's the last thing you want. You want what's best for him, I understand that. But you can't make people do what you want them to do. I learned that with Aaron." She smiled sadly at Diane. "I never saw a boy as stubborn as he was, when he wanted to be."

"I never understood why you didn't speak up more when we moved to Washington."

"Because it wouldn't have done any good. He had his heart set on that job, it was a big step up for him and I didn't have a reason for him not to go. I didn't want him to go, but it was his decision to make. So I accepted it and I tried to be as supportive as I could. That's the sort of thing I'm talking about."

"Okay." Diane stared into her coffee. "This is why I wanted to talk to you. Aaron would have said the same, probably, but I just didn't… feel comfortable with asking him. I wanted someone a little more detached from the situation."

Gertrude smiled at her affectionately. "You want to make sure everybody's happy. I've always known that. But you can't take charge of everything. Make an effort to accept this. I have a feeling it's going to be all right."

* * *

Martha closed her eyes, stretched her neck and back and let herself relax in the late afternoon sunshine. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of grass on the breeze; the shrill of a whistle came from the football field and she heard the coach's voice raised, criticizing one of the players for a fumbled pass. She and Ann were sitting in the stands next to a cooler filled with snacks for the team. To give herself a break from writing for the afternoon, Martha had come to practice and quickly found herself absorbed in the game.

"They look good, don't you think?" Ann's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Great. Tyler did really well today. I don't think I've ever seen anybody run faster."

"He loves football." Ann chuckled affectionately. "Absolutely lives for it."

Martha looked around. "Ray was here earlier. He stopped by to watch Tyler play. Do you know where he went?"

"No, I'm afraid not. He may have gone home." Ann shrugged. "He's supposed to come over tonight so Gertrude can tutor him in math. She says he's making progress; he's really working on his grades now."

"Tyler told me Ray's dad is around more than he used to be. After Aaron talked to him, he changed his work schedule and quit working nights. I think it really threw him to hear that Ray was involved with a gang."

"It's good of you to be concerned, Martha. I wish now I'd taken the time to find out more about Ray, instead of just telling Tyler to stay away from him. You have a gift for seeing the good in people."

"Well, so do you! You're about the nicest person I've ever met, Ann. I've never seen anyone more concerned about people than you."

Ann laughed. "Thanks, but it's not quite the same. I spend most of my time thinking about Bill, and the kids, and Gertrude. You're better at taking the long view."

"I don't have as much on my plate as you do. Of course you think about your family first. That's what everybody does. The real reason I started paying attention to Ray was Aaron. He was impressed when Ray came to him and told him about Jorge. He could tell Ray was basically truthful – he can always pick up if someone's evasive or lying to him."

Ray in fact had gone home to finish his other homework and fix dinner for his father; leaving the food in the refrigerator, he scribbled a note explaining that he was spending the evening at the Pierce ranch. He quickly loaded his math textbook into his backpack, left the house and decided to cut down an alley to save time back to the football field. Turning a corner, he glanced up and froze as he saw the outline of a man leaning against a truck and lighting a cigarette. He had not noticed Ray, who held his breath and stepped into a doorway as quietly as he could. It was Jorge Herrera.

Five minutes later, which felt more like an hour to Ray, he heard the slam of the truck's door followed by the engine starting. As the truck pulled away Ray peered cautiously from the doorway and then sprinted down the alley.

"It was him, Mr. Pierce. I just know it." Ray was doggedly insistent.

"But you didn't see his face?"

"No, sir. But the way he stands, the way he lit that cigarette… I've seen him do it a hundred times. I didn't think 'Maybe that's Jorge.' I just _knew._"

Aaron nodded his head. "I'm going to talk to Officer Peake. I just wish we had more to go on. You didn't see the license plate on his truck?"

Ray shook his head. "It all happened so fast I can't even tell you what color the truck was for sure. I just didn't want him to see me." He frowned at the textbook lying disregarded in front of him.

Aaron exchanged glances with his mother. "It's okay, Ray. At least we know to be on the lookout for him. And I'm going to warn Lupe and her father." He got up from the table. "You get back to your math now and don't worry about it any more. I'm going over to the police station to see if I can catch Peake before I go home."

* * *

Aaron had chosen a small room off the kitchen for his study. It looked like any other modest home office, but in this case appearances were deceiving. The door and window locks were far too complex for the average home intruder, and the office itself contained a powerful high-security computer and telephone line with a scrambler, courtesy of his friendship with various CTU agents. Returning home after his conversation with Tim Peake, Aaron headed directly to the study and sat down to think. Herrera's return to town was one additional worry to be added to the concerns he already had about his family's privacy and safety. The recent appearance of autograph seekers just outside the ranch had shaken him more than he cared to admit, and he knew that it was only a matter of time until it happened again. He was determined to install a full security system at the ranch before Martha's next book was published. To this end he had racked his memory and emailed Jon asking him to research the details of the security system on the Logan property, which had been comparable to a fortress. Aaron thought wryly that Charles Logan's paranoia had come in handy after all.

He had also decided to enroll Oso in a police dog training course. Officer Tim Peake had been delighted to help here: "A well-trained dog is worth six security cameras," he'd commented. "I know exactly what you need." As luck would have it, the main dog-training center for West Texas was only thirty miles away and Oso was set to begin training the following week.

Now Aaron was wondering how much to tell Nathan and the Hernandez family. While he did not want to panic Lupe or his son, they clearly needed to be warned of Jorge's return in order to take appropriate precautions. He determined to visit Raymond Hernandez the following day to offer some suggestions. He began to make notes to check the house's lighting and locks, but was interrupted by a knock at the study door.

"You're back," said Martha with satisfaction. "What was so urgent that you had to go over to Bill's?"

"It looks like that guy who assaulted Nathan is back in town. Jorge Herrera. Ray thinks he saw him on his way back to the school this afternoon."

"Oh, my God. We've got to tell the police – "

"I did it already, got hold of Peake. He said he'd get on to the State Police to keep an eye out for him. Herrera's cousin moved out of town months ago. He might be staying with a friend, or he might be outside town. He could be staying in some abandoned farm building for all we know. The police check those once in a while for squatters and meth dealers, but they don't have the resources to sweep them on a regular basis."

Martha grimaced. "Meth dealers. I hadn't thought of that."

"Country sees its share of crime too. It's not as concentrated as it is in the city, but it's there."

"You're thinking about that security system again."

"I am, and I'll get to it soon, but tomorrow I'm going to take Nathan out to the Hernandez house and check it out. I can only think of one reason why Herrera would risk getting arrested to come back here and that's Lupe."

"You're right." Martha thought. "Should we have her come here?"

"I don't know." Aaron sighed. "All we've really got is the word of a teenage kid who saw him at a distance for five seconds – although I believe him. And even if Lupe comes here, we can't move her father and brother in too. They'd still be at risk and I don't believe she'd leave them once she understands that."

Martha gave him a rueful smile. "Who knew retirement was going to be so full of drama?"

Aaron chuckled. "It'll be okay. All we have to do is take a few basic precautions, and I think the police should find him soon." He tried to sound as confident as possible but could not ignore the cloud of worry forming in the back of his mind. Seeing this in his eyes, Martha squeezed his hand.

"I know you'll be able to help. I'll lock up for the night. You go talk to Nathan and get out there first thing tomorrow morning."


	19. Chapter 19

Despite Aaron's lingering worry, he found it entertaining to watch Nathan take charge at the Hernandez home the next day. As they drove over Aaron had suggested some of the most likely vulnerable points to check; once arrived, he took care to step back and let his son inspect the entire house first. Lupe took notes as her fiancé pointed out loose window frames and areas of the yard that would require more lighting at night. Meanwhile, Aaron took Raymond Hernandez aside to give him more details on Herrera's criminal record. Hernandez was appalled to hear that his daughter's former boyfriend had been manufacturing and selling drugs.

"Lupe would never have gone out with him if she had known!"

"Of course she wouldn't. We know she didn't know. He was careful not to tell her where his money was coming from, and from all I've heard he tried to act decent around her. Until he got obsessed with her and started losing his temper."

Hernandez rubbed his eyes. "Yes. The change in her… I should have seen it sooner. I knew something was wrong, but she didn't tell me for a long time. When she showed me the bruises on her arm –" he paused for a moment. "If I'd had him in front of me, I don't know what I would have done. You never want to see your child go through that."

"No. You don't." The two men were silent for a moment, watching Lupe laugh as Nathan stole a kiss from her.

"She is so much happier now. Nathan has been good for her."

"She's been good for him, too. When he got here he was at loose ends, didn't know what he wanted to do with his life. She changed all that."

Hernandez smiled. "I'm glad to hear you say that." He gestured toward the house. "Come along, let's see what the two of them have to show us."

* * *

"Barbara, what's this about? You made this sound like a conspiracy on the phone." Martha looked quizzically at her sister-in-law.

"I couldn't tell you, Martha. You had to see it or I don't think you'd believe it." Barbara pointed to the items on her kitchen table: a key ring, a dishtowel, a pencil. Shrugging, Martha picked the dishtowel up for a closer look and then froze. Printed on the towel, along with the Presidential Seal, were the words "Ambler Grove, Texas: Home of First Lady Martha Logan Pierce." She snatched up the other two items and compared them; they bore the same slogan.

"Oh, _shit._ Where did you get these?"

"Pullen's Variety Store. I was in there this morning. I almost grabbed Bob Pullen to ask him what he thought he was doing, but I just kept a low profile. There are tourists in town, Martha. People in the store were _buying_ these things." The expression on her sister-in-law's face stopped her.

"Martha, I just wanted to warn you, I didn't mean to hurt you – "

"We shouldn't have moved here. It's going to ruin everything."

"Martha, listen! Just listen for a minute. Do you think we didn't want you to come? We're thrilled that you're here. When you got married, we all thought you'd stay in Washington and that we'd never get to see you. Bob Pullen is – well, he's all right, I guess, but he'd do anything to make a buck. Maybe we can get him to stop. But even if we can't, you aren't going to ruin the town and we aren't going to be flooded with tourists. Ambler Grove isn't interesting enough for that to happen."

Martha was now slumped in one of the kitchen chairs. She reached up to clasp Barbara's hand. "The one thing I didn't want was to mess up Aaron's life. Or yours either."

"You haven't. You're not." Barbara sat down next to her. "Look. Back when I was a kid, I used to hero-worship Aaron. You know? He was my big brother, he was on the football team… and he was patient and nice, not like some of his friends. I would have done anything for him. But he was always quiet, he didn't share much. Since he's married you, he's talked to me more than I think he's ever talked before. He's happier than I've ever seen him. Don't go all pessimistic on me, okay? Don't let this get to you."

"I promise. Thanks, Barbara." Martha smiled shakily and hugged her sister-in-law. "Remember the first time I came here, at Christmas? I was terrified. I kept asking Aaron if his family was going to like me. I was sure things weren't going to work out, but he kept saying that they would. It seems silly to think about that now. I keep telling myself to be more optimistic, but I don't always remember to do it."

"The amount of stuff you've been through, that isn't surprising. But I do tell you this time not to worry." Barbara thought for a moment. "The next business council meeting is coming up. Maybe I can get Jeff to give Bob Pullen a hard time about this." Jeff Rosman, an accountant Barbara had been dating for the past two years, was a member of the council and was well known to local politicians for his painstaking attention to local sales and corporate tax rates as well as the city budget.

"How are things going with you and Jeff, anyway?"

"Fine, I guess. When I started going out with him I thought he was on the dull side, but he definitely has his moments." Meeting her sister-in-law's eyes, Barbara blushed.

"Aha. And have you been able to – get together on your own much?" Martha asked as delicately as she could.

"It's not easy, but once in a while we manage it. Martha, it's been so wonderful just to be with a man again. And I think I make him happy."

"I'm sure you do. I know it isn't really any of my business, but have the two of you thought about – "

"Getting married?" Barbara finished, laughing. "You're a lot more tactful than Mother is. Lately she's been asking me about every two weeks. Yes, we've talked about it. And I think we both want to. But we're both so busy we keep postponing it, and we haven't even been able to figure out where we'd live. My place is a little out of the way, and his isn't really big enough."

* * *

Martha found herself remembering this conversation as she sat in the school auditorium a week later. Aaron and Nate, both infuriated by Bob Pullen's attempt to cash in on Martha's fame, were on either side of her. The monthly council meeting was nearing its end as the mayor called the last item on the agenda.

"New business? Anyone?"

Jeff Rosman immediately raised his hand. "Mr. Mayor, I do have an issue that needs to be discussed. Although it is mainly of concern to certain of our residents, you could say that it also concerns Ambler Grove as a whole."

The mayor eyed him curiously. "Go on."

"The Pierce family, Mrs. Martha Pierce in particular, are concerned about a line of items now being sold at Pullen's Variety Store." Moving to the head of the council table, Rosman handed around samples of the items Barbara had purchased. Turning to the audience, he added, "For those of you who cannot see them, Bob Pullen is selling a line of souvenirs labeled with the town's name stating that Ambler Grove is the home of the former First Lady. He's profiting from her presence here and infringing on her privacy –"

"Hold on now!" Pullen jumped up from the audience, ready to defend himself. "This is legal. I got an opinion before I put any money into these things. All due respect to Mrs. Pierce, but she _is_ a public figure, and I got a right to do this. I'm not trying to defame or libel her in any way."

"No, you're just trying to make a buck," Rosman shot back.

The pounding of the mayor's gavel cut through the escalating argument. "All right now, folks, knock it off." He scanned the audience and nodded toward Martha. "Ma'am, do you have anything you'd care to say regarding this issue?"

"Yes, I do." Martha stood. "I'm sure Mr. Pullen is correct that this is legal. And there's nothing defamatory about a key ring or a dishtowel with my name on it. On the other hand, once you start down this road, where is it going to end? I didn't move here to turn Ambler Grove into a circus. I moved here to be with family – my husband's family. Everybody's been incredibly welcoming, and I am grateful to all of you. But we've already had people coming by the ranch, wanting to take pictures and so on, and we don't want to encourage that. We value our privacy as I'm sure all of you do, too." Seeing heads nodding in agreement, she added, "Please just give this some thought. You're probably thinking tourists would boost the town's economy, and you could be right. But believe me when I tell you that if that happens the town will never be the same. I love Ambler Grove the way it is, and once it loses its character, you'll never get it back." She sat down to a light patter of applause.

"Nice job, Em!" Nathan muttered. "I think you convinced a lot of them. This should put some pressure on that Pullen guy."

"Thanks, Nathan," she sighed. "I'm glad that's over with. It was really good of Jeff to help. I need a chance to talk to him after the meeting's over."

A few minutes later the mayor ended the meeting and the Pierces found themselves surrounded by well-wishers from the audience. After a few minutes of handshaking and chat Martha found herself being steered to the front of the room on Nathan's helpful arm, while Aaron stayed behind to talk to Officer Peake about the Herrera case.

Jeff Rosman was dressed in corduroys and a navy blue sweater. His unassuming appearance was typical of an accountant; his average looks and quiet personality puzzled Martha, who had never really understood why her fun-loving sister-in-law was attracted to him. As she moved closer she suddenly noticed his eyes, which were alert and showed a glint of humor. _That must be it,_ she thought.

"Jeff, it was really kind of you to talk to the City Council tonight. I hope Barbara didn't hassle you too much about it."

Rosman broke into a grin. "Barbara's good at getting what she wants, but the truth is, it's about time somebody took Pullen to task. He loves to complain about taxes and building regulations. Maybe getting a taste of what he likes to dish out will quiet him down for a while."

"Maybe it will. Will we be seeing you on Sunday? It's our turn to have everybody for lunch this week."

Rosman hesitated. "I hate to impose on you."

"It's not an imposition. Bring your kids. Barbara always brings hers, and they love to go out to the barn after lunch. We give them carrots to feed the horses and they think it's great. You and Barbara can get some time to relax while they burn off some energy."

Rosman's face brightened at the suggestion. "That sounds great. We've hardly seen each other this week." He sighed. "It would be so much easier if we were all together…"

"Barbara says you haven't had time to make any long-term plans."

"No, but I think we need to make the time."

"I'll give you a hint: Sweep her off her feet. I think she'd love it."

"Do you think?"

"I don't just think, I know." As Rosman shot her a perceptive glance she added awkwardly, "I know you think I'm meddling, and so would Barbara if she knew I was doing this. But the two of you are so well suited, and your families get along…" she let the rest of her sentence trail off and looked at him appealingly.

As she had hoped, Jeff blushed. "I do. I mean, we do. And we've talked about it. We just keep putting it off, because things keep coming up."

"Of course they do. That's just life. But sometimes you have to figure out what you really want from life and take control. Jeff, the only reason I'm telling you this is because it took a disaster for me to figure it out. I'm angry at myself sometimes because I should have done something sooner. Believe me when I tell you that you don't want to look back and regret wasted time."

"I believe you, Martha. I don't want to put this off till the kids are in high school. I'll talk to her this weekend and try to make some plans. You know you and Aaron are going to have to be in the wedding," he added with a grin.

"Barbara was my matron of honor. The least I can do is to return the favor," Martha retorted. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned.

"Em, Mr. Pullen is over there. I thought you might want to have a word with him," Nathan muttered.

"Why?"

"If we can keep him friendly, he's more likely to do what you want."

"Good point, Nathan," she conceded reluctantly. "I'll see what I can do."

"You can do a lot, if you put your mind to it," he reminded her, with a smile that stunned her with its resemblance to Aaron's. This gave her confidence enough to walk over to Pullen, ignoring his sullen expression.

"Mrs. Pierce. I guess I should feel honored you came over to say hello."

"I appreciate that you were willing to listen to what I had to say." She suddenly noticed Pullen's isolation from the rest of the room's occupants and racked her brain for details of the only time she could remember shopping at the store. "I think your kitchenware selection is very good. We got some skillets from you we use all the time."

His expression lightened somewhat. "Well, I'm glad to hear it."

An idea suddenly occurred to Martha. "I have a suggestion for you. Call it a bargain. I will be publishing another book in a few months, and I'd like to have a signing here in town to start my book tour. Would you be interested in hosting it?"

Pullen's eyes widened. "A book signing? At my store? Hell yes – I mean sure, Mrs. Pierce, I'd be interested."

"Okay then, I'll talk to my agent about it. With regards to the souvenirs…" she paused.

Pullen thought for a moment, then nodded his head. "It's a deal, Mrs. Pierce. You make the arrangements for the signing, and I'll get rid of those trinkets for you." He stuck out his hand and Martha shook it.

"The final draft is in and I've made some corrections. As soon as I get a publication date I'll let you know and we can make some plans."

Pullen gave her a tentative smile. "Sounds good to me. Thanks." Seeing Aaron headed in their direction, he ducked his head and headed out the side door.

Martha stared after him. "What is it with him?" she asked her husband.

Aaron shrugged. "He's run the store for years, took it over from his dad. He's always had a reputation for being tight with money. And after his wife left a couple years ago it got worse. I don't know that much about him, other than that."

"He struck me as unpleasant to start with, but he doesn't seem to interact much with other people. Maybe he's just isolated."

"Maybe he is. Did you get anywhere?"

"We struck a deal. He gets rid of the souvenirs and I have a book signing at his store. It was my idea," she added.

Aaron chuckled. "Well, as long as you're okay with it. The town will love it." He put his arm around his wife's shoulders. "Let's head home. Nathan?"

"Right behind you, Dad."


	20. Chapter 20

At the town council meeting Officer Peake had not had good news for Aaron: the state police had recently noted an upswing in local meth dealing. "Herrera could be spearheading this whole thing. The timeline fits. Even if he isn't, it would be the perfect reason for him to come back to town," he commented. "I've questioned all the guys he used to hang out with - they all claim they don't know where he is. There's one or two of his friends that have done some time for selling meth and I'm trying to concentrate on them."

Aaron looked grim. "I don't want that kind of crime here any more than you do, Tim. But right now I'm really worried about the Rodriguez family. If Herrera finds out Lupe and my son are engaged he'll come after her. Nate and I checked out their house, put up some additional lighting and made it more secure - but their back yard isn't fenced off and anybody could get in there. Raymond Rodriguez promised me he'd take care of that."

Peake sighed, frustrated. "I'm glad to hear it, because Herrera could be holed up anywhere. My first thought, he'd pick some abandoned farm building where he could set up a meth lab without being disturbed, but there's some places in town that would do almost as well. A house that's been foreclosed on would do, or a failed business. It would be more of a risk for him but the convenience of being close to his customers might outweigh that. We'll keep looking."

"I appreciate it, Tim. Anything I can do to help out, you let me know."

* * *

Diane had given considerable thought to Gertrude Pierce's advice since their meeting. Reluctantly she had come to the conclusion that her former mother-in-law was correct, and with even more reluctance had realized that she had to apologize. Deciding a direct meeting was best, she had come downtown and now, fighting nervousness, walked slowly into Rodriguez Hardware.

Lupe looked up from the register. "Can I help – " she began, and then broke off. "Mrs. DeWitt?"

"Good morning," Diane began hesitantly. "I was wondering if you'd have time to have lunch with me today."

"Lunch?" Lupe looked at her skeptically for a moment, then shrugged. "Fine. If you don't mind waiting a few minutes, I have to get someone to cover for me."

Shortly afterward the two women were seated in a quiet corner of the Dairy Nook in uncomfortable silence. After staring into her coffee for a minute or so Diane nerved herself to open the conversation.

"I know we don't know each other very well. I asked you here because I wanted a chance to talk to you. And to apologize," she added. "I haven't been very supportive of Nathan, and I haven't been very nice to you. I should have been kinder to both of you. I had no idea that your relationship would get serious so fast. I wanted Nate to take his time, look around and date more than one girl, because I didn't want him to make the same mistake I made. Before I married my first husband I never really dated anyone else. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't have married him."

Lupe looked at her suspiciously. "Are you telling me that's the only reason you didn't want me dating your son?"

"No," Diane answered bluntly. "I'll admit the idea of him dating somebody Hispanic shocked me to start with. I would have liked to see him dating one of my friends' daughters, just because they're familiar to me – but I knew it would be silly for me to try to tell him that. And part of it was just me being selfish, I guess. When he first moved back to town I did get to see him a lot, but he lives with his dad now and…" She sighed. "I might as well admit it. I'm jealous. I felt like I'd been given a second chance to get things right with my son and now I've blown it again."

Lupe looked interested. "What do you mean, a second chance?"

"The divorce was, in large part, my fault. My husband made his share of mistakes, but I was the one who ran away. I never wanted to move to Washington, and then Aaron was gone so much of the time… by the time Nate was in high school I was desperate to leave. Aaron wanted to keep trying to save the marriage – that man never did learn when to quit. Finally, I wound up in an affair. I liked the guy well enough and it gave me a reason to file for divorce, but the relationship didn't last. I didn't realize how much the stress had affected Nate until he told me he'd thrown away his college applications and was joining the Navy. I couldn't believe it. I asked him to reconsider, I took all the blame for what was happening, but it didn't work." She blotted her eyes with a paper napkin Lupe handed her. "My biggest fear is that he's going to go away again."

Lupe's defensiveness had gradually decreased as she listened to Diane. "We aren't going anywhere. And I'm not trying to take Nathan away from you. I've never heard him blame you for anything, in fact he talks about you a lot." A faint smile appeared on Diane's face, encouraging Lupe to continue: "He told me about one Christmas when his dad got called in to work at the last minute, and he was so disappointed. But you called his best friend's mom and packed everything up and went over to his friend's house, and it turned out to be one of the best Christmases he ever had."

"I remember that. I was furious with Aaron, even though it wasn't his fault. I didn't want Nate to see that, and I knew I had to do something. I told myself I wasn't going to let anything spoil Nate's Christmas."

"He has a lot of good memories of you. I think the reason he's spending more time with his dad now is they didn't have that time together when he was a kid, and he finally has the chance to get to know him. And, you know, his dad almost got killed and that really scared him."

"Yes." Diane shivered. "I used to worry every time Aaron was late. Until one day I realized I wasn't even thinking about it any more, and that was when I knew the marriage was really over. I'm not proud of that, but it's the truth. We're on better terms now, we both remarried and we're both happy. But I really want you and Nathan not to go through what we went through."

Lupe leaned back in her seat. "I learned about marriage from my mom and dad. They had a very traditional marriage. In Mexico, family is everything and the man is the head of the house. When I first left home I was desperate to cut loose like you said. I didn't really appreciate what they had, it felt so smothering to me. But when my mother got sick and I came home to help, that was when I saw how much they meant to each other. And that was when I realized that my mom was the real head of the house. My dad was very good to my mom and I know he respected what she had to say. He listened to her advice a lot. I did the best I could, but things just fell apart without her. We're better now, but it isn't the same. We all still miss her so much. I can't even make myself start planning the wedding; I feel like I can't pick out the dress without her."

Diane hesitated. "I could help, if you want. There's a bridal shop a couple towns over that I think is pretty good. Maybe we could go take a look?"

"That would be really nice, Mrs. DeWitt. I could use the help." Lupe gave her a tentative smile.

"Call me Diane. Now let's eat up, okay? I know you need to get back to work, and if you want to, we can start looking for your dress next weekend."

* * *

Having completed yet another revision of her book, Martha was enormously relieved to hear from Elinor that she enthusiastically approved of the final draft and had sent it on to her publisher. Guardian, eager to get _Lone Star Always _into stores, fast-tracked its publication date and soon informed Martha that another tour was in the works. With the memories of her first book tour still vivid she did not hesitate to set some ground rules for the trip.

"We have to kick off the tour here in town, Elinor. I promised one of the store owners in Ambler Grove that I'd do a reading. And as long as I have to do this, I need you to schedule some of my speeches at the same time so I don't have to be away from home any more than necessary." Martha reached across and took Aaron's hand. "Can we abbreviate this tour? I've got a family to look after here. My stepson's getting married in a few months and I need to be here to help. We need to schedule the tour around that."

After Martha had hung up the phone Aaron pulled her onto his lap. "I've got a surprise for you. Something to take your mind off the book, the move and everything else that's been going on."

"A surprise for me?"

"Uh huh. It's a full moon tonight. Let's take the horses and go for a ride."

"What about dinner?"

"Oh, that's been taken care of. When we get there, you'll see."

Fifteen minutes of riding brought them to one of Martha's favorite spots: a quiet clearing in one corner of the ranch property. Here under a cluster of trees sat a barbecue grill, table, chairs and an ice chest.

Martha's face lit up. "We're having dinner _here?_"

"We are. I brought all this out this afternoon. Nathan helped," he added with a grin. "He came up with the menu and prepped the vegetables. They're in foil packets, so all we have to do is throw everything on the grill when it's ready."

"You're spoiling me."

Martha attended to the horses while Aaron started the grill. An hour later as they were finishing dinner he produced brownies and a thermos of coffee. "The best part is no dishes to wash," he added. "We'll just pack everything up and I'll come get it tomorrow."

"No, the best part was that steak. Ahh!"

Aaron shook out a blanket and spread it on a soft patch of grass. "Come join me. We should be able to see some shooting stars tonight."

There were in fact several shooting stars to be seen, which kept Martha entertained for some time. Smiling at his wife's enthusiasm, Aaron finally asked her, "So. You happy?"

"Very happy. I kept wondering if I'd miss Washington, but I haven't even thought about it. What about you? Do you miss work?"

"No. It's funny how things change. My whole life used to be centered around my job, I thought I'd be spending the rest of my life in Washington watching Presidents come and go... but no. I'm glad to be here."

Martha laid a hand lightly on the holster at his waist. "You brought your gun. I haven't seen you do that for a while."

Aaron tensed. "I kind of hoped you wouldn't notice that. Just call me cautious."

Martha sat bolt upright and stared at him indignantly. "Hoped I wouldn't notice? Don't keep things from me, Aaron. If there's something to worry about I want to know."

"Well, according to Tim Peake there's more meth dealing around here than there used to be. Herrera could be behind that, or he might not be. We don't know. Either way I want to be careful. We've got Oso, and our new gate's up, and the house is as safe as I can get it. But I'm not taking any risks when it comes to you or Nathan. Even if Herrera isn't in the area, more drugs means more crime. This town is my home and I'm not letting it fall apart on my watch." Aaron had gotten steadily more emphatic as he spoke. The romantic atmosphere of the evening vanished as they looked at one another, worried.

"I want you to help if you can. But you aren't an officer of the law any more, Aaron."

"I may be retired, but I've still got federal ID. And a concealed-carry permit for the gun."

Martha knew it would be no use to argue the point. "You aren't the only one with a gun. Do you think I need to start carrying mine?"

Aaron hesitated. "I don't think you have to do that, but we need to go to the gun club and get some practice in. They've got a firing range."

"Okay, it's a date." Martha leaned over and kissed him. "I think maybe it's time to get this stuff packed up and take the horses home. But I want to do this again. This was the most romantic evening ever, and no worries about crime are going to keep us locked in the house when we could be in a beautiful spot like this."

* * *

Several hours later Officer Peake quietly stepped closer to a boarded-up building that had once been part of a motel. The rest of the complex had been torn down long ago, but this wing of the structure still stood. Using his hand to shield the glow from his flashlight he cautiously examined the rusted electricity meter on the outer wall: the meter was turning. With his light he traced a wire connecting the building to a nearby power pole.

_This has to be it,_ he thought. Carefully he circled the building, looking for any evidence that it was occupied. Eventually he saw a sliver of light escaping through a window that had been covered with a torn blanket. The gap was small but through it he could see vague movements. Throwing caution to the wind, he stepped into the moonlight and put his eye to the window. Plastic gallon bottles were stacked in the corner of the room and he winced at a strong chemical smell escaping from the loose window frame.

_That's enough,_ Peake thought. Deciding to call for backup, be turned around but found himself confronted by a man with a ski mask and a gun pointed at his chest. He quickly reached for his own weapon, but it was too late. Two shots left him sprawled on the asphalt of the parking lot.

"Shit, man! You just shot a cop!"

"I know it. C'mon, we gotta get this stuff moved fast. Break it down and let's get out of here."

The first man lingered, staring at Peake. "Shouldn't we call 911?"

"You crazy? What the hell for? Look, I can't do this myself. Help me out!"

The gun still in his hand was enough to convince his partner. "Okay, Jorge, okay. Once we're out of here we call. It ain't decent to just leave him here."

"Whatever. We'll find a pay phone or something. I'm not leaving all this behind, I invested too much money in this to quit now."

Fifteen minutes later the truck squealed away, leaving Peake's body on the ground.


	21. Chapter 21

_Sorry for the long silence! Hope you enjoy. This chapter brings back a character I introduced in "Aaron's Thanksgiving." I like Agent Gary Irvin and I hope to be able to use him again. _

Tim Peake was the first officer to be killed in the line of duty in Ambler Grove. His death shocked the entire town, which responded with an outpouring of support unlike anything Martha had ever seen. Bill and Ann Pierce opened a scholarship fund for Peake's two children; at the funeral, the church was packed to standing room only; and friends and family brought a never-ending stream of casseroles to his widow.

Since hearing the news Aaron had found himself fighting an urge to help investigate the shooting. After a week had passed with no arrests the urge became overwhelming; every morning he opened the paper hoping to see developments in the case and tossed it down impatiently in disappointment. One morning at breakfast after he had gone through this process Martha sighed and said, "Go ahead."

"What?"

She smiled and took his hand. "Aaron, a window couldn't be any more transparent than you are. You're frustrated that nothing's happened with Tim. So am I. If you think you can help, I want you to help."

"At least I can try. I'll call Chief Russell today."

Joel Russell, the town's chief of police, was a transplant from Austin who had been hired three years earlier. He had applied for the Ambler Grove position to be closer to his wife's parents, who lived in the area and had fallen ill. Peake had respected Chief Russell both for his shrewdness in enforcing the laws and his flexibility in adapting to a small-town environment. "He isn't one of these guys that's real rigid about following protocol to a T," Peake had explained to Aaron. "We're a little less formal here, and as long as it works that's all right with him."

At the police station Aaron's initial impression was of efficiency: he was not kept waiting for his appointment, which pleased him. The chief rose from behind his desk to shake hands.

"Mr. Pierce. Pleased to meet you - Tim Peake spoke very highly of you. I understand you were in school together."

"We were, but he was a few years behind me. My brother and he were in the same class. It's hit him pretty hard."

Russell sighed. "It's hit all of us. That's part of the reason I wanted to meet with you, to be honest. I know what your background is, thanks to Tim. If you have any connections, anything that might help, I'd be glad to listen."

Aaron considered. "I have friends in the Secret Service; I worked there for more than twenty-five years. And I have some connections at CTU. Drug dealing is one of those things that hits every law enforcement agency, one way or the other. Mostly with regards to money laundering. But here I have reason to believe – and so did Tim – that this guy Herrera is crossing back and forth over the border. He told me you work with the Mexican police from time to time, informally. But if Herrera has gone as deep as Mexico City, and he might have, then I think CTU can be of some help."

The chief visibly relaxed. "That would be great. I can give it my best shot, but you know how these things are. Once you go international, it's really hard for local cops to get anything done."

"I knew one agent in particular, based in Los Angeles, who did extensive work in Mexico several years ago. His name was Jack Bauer. He's gone dark but I can ask Gary Irvin. I used to work with him quite a bit; he's the head of Washington branch of CTU. Anything Gary doesn't know, he can either review Jack's file or talk to some of his co-workers."

"And then you'll get back to me?"

"And then I'll get back to you."

"Done, Mr. Pierce. I really appreciate your help."

* * *

A second wedding was now being planned in the Pierce family, as Jeff Rosman had proposed to Barbara within a week of the town hall meeting. Barbara's happiness lifted the spirits of the entire family. Ann and Gertrude immediately called a family conference and a few days later the Pierce women met in Ann's kitchen for coffee and a discussion of wedding plans.

"We've decided Jeff's family will move into my house," Barbara reported. "The kids are being really good about sharing bedrooms, and eventually we'll either build an extension on the house or buy a bigger place. And Jeff wants me to help him with the accounting business – I can do it from home so I'll be there for the kids."

"What about the wedding?" her mother prompted her.

"We know we want the kids to participate. They're going to be our attendants. They're really excited about it. Other than that…" Barbara shrugged. "Something simple. Basic. Like you and Aaron had, Martha."

"But you both know a lot of people in town! And Jeff might want to invite some of his clients."

"Okay, Mother, okay. But I don't want a lot of guests. Fifty at the absolute most. Remember, we've got to pay for all this. And if we have a honeymoon – "

"What do you mean 'if'?" Martha struck in. "You deserve one. We can help with the kids. You and Jeff need a few days alone. We can get them all moved in and their things arranged while you're gone."

Barbara's face lit with relief. "That would be great, Martha. Really great."

* * *

After obtaining Chief Russell's approval Aaron had called CTU Washington almost immediately, taking care to use the secure line in his office. Irvin was quick to pick up the phone: "Aaron Pierce! Good to hear from you. Word is you've retired."

"I have, Gary. At least I thought I had. I'm living in Texas now not far from the Mexican border and we're having some trouble with drug dealers. One of our police officers was killed in a shootout and we think the guy that did it is back over the border. I met with the chief of police here and got his permission to talk to you to see if you might have any information that might help us get this guy."

"Where in Texas are you?"

"About two hours from El Paso."

"Give me a second." In the pause that followed Aaron could hear a door closing. "Okay. Before I get started, I need to ask you something. What gave you the idea to call me?"

"A CTU agent I used to know. I'm sure you remember him. Jack Bauer."

"I remember Jack, all right."

"He was active in Mexico at one point, trying to track that bioterrorist threat we had several years ago. I don't know all the details but I know he was involved; I was working with President Palmer that day."

"I see. No other reason?"

"No, sir."

"Okay, I'm going to tell you as much as I can. The truth is we've got a new terrorist problem building in Mexico. It's not nearly as advanced as that virus threat was, just thugs willing to do dirty jobs for money. Members of the drug gangs are being recruited for various tasks. Some of what they're doing is disruption of infrastructure – bridges, railroad tracks, phone and computer lines. CTU's counterpart in Mexico, CISN, is warning us that they're starting to hack into computer networks as well. I can't give you more information at the moment. Things are pretty dangerous down there and if local law enforcement starts investigating they might actually disrupt what we're doing."

"You've got agents operating down there?"

"How secure a line are you on?" Irvin snapped.

"You don't need to worry. I understand if you don't want to tell me, but this phone line meets CTU specifications and there's a scrambler on it. I don't have anyone in here with me. This is just between the two of us, and if you tell me not to share this information with the police then I won't."

There was a pause while Irvin thought it over. "Can you tell me more about what's been going on at your end?"

Aaron gave him the details of the Peake shooting and the meth kitchen found in the abandoned motel. "We haven't had any vandalism or computer hacking, at least not that I've heard about."

"That doesn't mean you aren't at risk. Your location is kind of a hot spot, Aaron. There's been a center of increased activity around El Paso that we've been investigating. I'd like to send someone to meet with you and the chief of police. Can I get back to you at this number?"

"Of course."

"I'll call you in a couple days when I have more information." They agreed on a time and Aaron hung up.

A few days later Irvin called back. His message was brief: "Make an appointment with Chief Russell for ten o'clock tomorrow morning. My representative will meet you there."

Agent Ricardo Zuniga ("call me Rick") was dark-haired and slim. His intense, wiry energy was apparent as he paced about the chief's office, occasionally stopping to emphasize a point. He quickly outlined his work with _La Hermandad,_ a drug gang based in Chihuahua:

"I've been with them six months. CTU worked up a good enough background for me that the gang leaders have started including me in their cyber espionage project. Not all the members of the gang know about this, just the more trusted ones. The lower-level guys do the sabotage jobs, but they don't know why they're doing it; they're being told it's to keep the police out of their hair and to warn off politicians who might come after them."

"And you think they're starting to extend their activities into the States?"

"They would like to. I think that's their ultimate goal. They're using Mexico for practice. Now it sounds like your guy is an independent operator, but he's got to have some interaction with a gang – even if he's only paying protection money to keep them from taking him out. They don't like competition. Or they may be staking him, supplying him with equipment and chemicals in return for a chunk of his profits. Tell me as much about him as you can and I'll keep my eyes open. If we can catch him, he might be a good source of information."

"What can we do for you?" Aaron asked. "Gary gave me to understand that our area is at risk for some of these sabotage efforts."

"Keep an eye out for any hacking attempts. If you have somebody who's good with computers, get them on it. They might be after your local Internet providers, the phone company, water and power… or you. They love law enforcement databases."

Chief Russell looked stricken. "I'll get right on it."

"If you do find evidence of any security breaches," Zuniga added, "get in touch with Gary Irvin and pass that information along to him right away. Tell your people to be careful about checking the databases. We don't want to tip these guys off that we know they're trying to hack in. Good luck." He headed for the door.

"Since you're closer, wouldn't it make sense for us to stay in touch with you?" Russell asked.

"Sorry, can't be done. I have very specific parameters for communicating with CTU and I can't violate them. If these guys find out who I really am, I'll turn up in pieces by the side of the road. Or worse," he added with a tight smile. "Anything you need to know, you'll hear from Agent Irvin – and anything I need to know I'll get from my CTU contacts." He nodded to Aaron and left.

Russell gave a low whistle. "What would make anybody take on a job like that?"

"Probably the challenge, and the risk. CTU is good at finding that kind of agent."

* * *

Bob Pullen and Martha watched with excitement as the UPS driver unloaded several cartons marked "BOOKS – URGENT." Martha signed for the delivery and thanked the driver; Pullen headed to the front of the store to oversee the arrangement of _Lone Star Always_ copies in the window display. A few minutes later Pullen approached her with a wistful gleam in his eye. "Do you think you could maybe sign one for me, Mrs. Pierce? This is something new for me. I never met an actual writer before."

"I'd be happy to, and I hope you enjoy reading it." Pullen immediately produced a pen and stood by as Martha autographed a copy of her book.

As Pullen's staff continued unpacking the books Martha recognized a customer standing nearby: Donna Givens, though not a close friend of the Pierces, was familiar to Martha from her volunteer work. She did not return Martha's smile, but picked up a book and began glancing through it.

"What's this book about?"

"It's a fictionalized version of things I heard and saw in Washington, but I set it in a small town. I thought it made the story better," Martha answered as pleasantly as she could.

"It says here it's set in Texas."

"Yes. I love it here and I wanted to include Texas in the story. But the characters and the plot – as I said, I got my ideas from what I saw in Washington."

One or two other customers moved over, curious to see the books. Donna threw a suspicious glance at Martha. "You sure this isn't about us? Rumors you got from your husband's family?"

"Of course not! You know Gertrude doesn't talk about people, and neither does Ann. And Aaron and Bill have better things to do than gossip." Martha was careful not to mention Barbara. "I wrote most of the book before I moved here, and I made up the characters. Some of the town details I did adapt, but not –"

"You based it on Ambler Grove? This is so _exciting!_" another woman broke in. "Can we buy the books now? I can't wait!"

Seeing Martha's apprehensive expression, Pullen broke in. "Book signing's not till tomorrow. Now listen here. Don't go jumping to any conclusions. Mrs. Pierce has a great imagination, and if she says she made it up, she made it up. Donna, will you quit looking for trouble?" His scowl drove Givens to back away, throwing an angry glance over her shoulder as she left.

Martha felt a qualm in her stomach. "I hope people don't get the wrong idea," she muttered. "This book is a tribute to Texas, not a collection of secondhand gossip."

"Donna's my ex-wife's cousin, Mrs. Pierce. She's always been one to believe the worst of people, especially me." Pullen's grim expression suddenly moved Martha to more sympathy with him than she had thought possible. "Don't let her get to you, okay?" He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "You just wait. This is the biggest thing to hit the town in years; there's gonna be reporters here tomorrow and everything. In my store!" His satisfaction made Martha smile. "People are going to love this book. I just know it."


	22. Chapter 22

_It's been a while since I posted; I don't have that much free time these days. Still, I hope you enjoy this latest installment._

**_Chapter 22_**

"You all set?"

"All set." Martha took a deep breath and smiled at her husband.

"You look beautiful." This earned him a kiss on the cheek; Martha had put a lot of thought into her outfit for the signing. Aiming for a compromise between businesslike and Texas casual, she had finally settled on a full denim skirt, heeled black boots and tailored white blouse. "You need big hair if you want to look like a Texan, Em," Nathan had suggested, but a glare from his stepmother had rapidly ended his teasing.

Guessing that Bob Pullen would not be familiar with writers' requirements, Martha had packed a bag containing bottles of water and several pens for the signing session. Her tight clutch on it now betrayed her nerves. "So everyone knows to meet us here?" she asked for the second, or perhaps third, time.

"They'll be here when the store opens," Aaron answered patiently. "Looks like the news guys want you at the table." He nodded to Pullen, hovering uncertainly in the background. "This is going to take about half an hour. She just sits there and lets them adjust the lights," he explained.

"Well then." Pullen had been eyeing the sidewalk outside for customers, but managed to pull his attention away. "How about, um, a cup of coffee? Or a soda…" he gestured at the cold drinks case.

"I wouldn't mind something cold," Nathan commented, gratefully accepting a bottle of water from the case.

The storeowner was clearly unaccustomed to making small talk, but as the three men waited he did his best. After posing a few questions to Aaron about adjusting to small town life, Pullen's conversation segued into a discussion of the weather and conditions on surrounding ranches. His main interests seemed to be business and happenings in town. Aaron realized that he didn't know much about the man personally.

"You have children, Mr. Pullen? Any family in town?"

"Ah, no. My wife and I, we didn't have any kids. And my sister moved to Houston some time back. I guess I'm just sort of accustomed to being by myself." He shrugged. "So that's why I go to all the town council meetings, I guess. It's something to do." He glanced over to Martha, surrounded by reporters. "It's kind of your wife to do this. It'll be good for the town." Suddenly looking more alert, he added, "Have you heard anything more about that drug gang? The ones that killed Officer Peake? Made me sick to hear about it."

"Afraid not," Aaron answered casually. "They could be anywhere – probably left town the night it happened." He shot a warning glance at his son.

Pullen nodded in agreement. "Probably you're right. Still, I've been trying to keep an eye out, look for suspicious characters, that sort of thing."

"And have you seen anything?" Nathan asked.

"Not so far. There's a couple foreclosed houses on my street I check pretty regularly. They're empty right now. When the grass looks like it's getting long I mow it, pick up the flyers on the doorstep and try to make it look not so obvious that there's nobody there. I've found a few beer bottles, probably kids having a party, but nothing really suspicious."

"Good," said Aaron approvingly. "That's a big help, Mr. Pullen. Not just for drugs, but it should help keep squatters from moving in. You don't want anybody trashing those homes."

"You the owner?" one of the reporters interrupted them. "You can let people in now, we're just about ready to start. We'll want to talk to some customers after Mrs. Pierce does her reading."

Pullen lost no time in opening the front door and beckoning in the cluster of townspeople, mostly women, waiting on the sidewalk. The Pierces were there en masse, her nieces and nephews looking very excited. "Aunt Martha!" one of them stage whispered, "the TV news is here!"

"They sure are," Martha answered with a smile, which faded as Donna Gibson marched in with a grim expression on her face. A cluster of four or five other women accompanied her, some of whom nodded a hello, others ignoring her. They claimed a row of empty chairs near the front of the room.

Turning to the podium, Martha found herself forestalled by Bob Pullen. "D'you mind if I give you a little introduction, Mrs. Pierce?" he whispered. Barely waiting for her "Go right ahead," he stepped to the microphone and cleared his throat importantly.

"Good afternoon, everybody. Welcome to the first stop on Mrs. Pierce's national book tour! She wanted to start off right here in town, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you how much this means to Ambler Grove." His nods encouraged applause from the audience. "Now, first Mrs. Pierce is going to read to us from her novel and then anybody who wants an autographed copy can get in line to buy one. Also, the store will be open if you feel the need to purchase anything else. Let me tell you, I got a look at this book last night and it is great. Give our writer a hand, everybody!" He stepped back and nodded to Martha.

Martha had put a lot of thought into her choice of the chapter she wanted to read. It was centered on Sunday dinner at the mayor's house and, she thought, contained some of her best dialogue. Chuckles from the audience bolstered her confidence as she read. The chapter ended with a description of a Texas summer sunset that she hoped her listeners would appreciate. She finished her reading to loud applause and thanked the audience.

"Mrs. Pierce, would you mind a few questions before you start signing?" called one of the journalists, as people began lining up to purchase the book.

"No, that's fine."

"How much of the book is based on your experiences in Texas?"

"Just the setting." Martha felt it would be well to emphasize this point. "I wanted to give readers a chance to see what Texas is like. The plot and characters I drew from, well, a lot of experiences. Some from people I knew when I was growing up. Some from Washington - but the details are changed. I'm not trying to intrude on anybody's privacy."

"No real-life scandals?" The reporter looked somewhat disappointed.

"There's a subplot about an illegitimate child, but I got that from President Grover Cleveland. Not exactly today's news," Martha retorted. She gestured to the first person in line to come forward, but before she could begin signing another reporter interrupted.

"Mrs. Pierce, this lady here" – he gestured at Donna Gibson, standing nearby – "is objecting to your book. She says she has reason to believe that it portrays Ambler Grove and its residents in a bad light. Any comments?"

"I don't see how she can claim that, as she can't have read it yet. Besides, this is my husband's home town. Why on earth would I do that to him, or his family?" Martha shook her head at Bill, who looked ready to confront Gibson and her cluster of friends. Most of them had remained expressionless throughout the reading, and now she realized why: they had come to make as much trouble as possible.

"She's painting us with the same brush as those government folk," Gibson insisted; sensing controversy, the cameraman was filming now. "She's going to make us look like small-minded hypocrites!"

"You're doing just fine on your own," Nathan fired back. Aaron quickly placed a restraining hand on his arm, but before he could say anything Diane had left the line and come forward to the reporter.

"Donna Gibson, that's not true and you know it," she said calmly. "Martha has been nothing but supportive of the town since the day she came here. She chose to, even though she could have lived anywhere she wanted. I think that says a lot, plus she's active here. She volunteers. She's done a lot to help Ambler Grove."

"And you are?" asked the reporter.

"I'm the former Mrs. Pierce. His ex-wife," Diane answered, smiling. "And if I say she's okay, you can bet the rest of the town thinks so too." Having successfully distracted the reporter, she beckoned Nathan over while continuing to smile at the cameraman.

Donna Gibson, no longer the center of attention, was clearly angry. Before she could say anything else, Artie DeWitt began chatting with one of her friends and slowly moved the group away from the other reporters. Martha quickly began signing books as if nothing had happened and within a few minutes Gibson and her group had left.

"Thanks," Aaron whispered to DeWitt.

"Diane gave me my marching orders before we got here," DeWitt responded with a grin. "She thought that Gibson woman might try to cause trouble."

* * *

Acting on CTU Agent Zuniga's advice, Chief Russell had found a member of his staff to lead the search for cyberattacks on local databases. Officer Janine Croft had learned her impressive computer skills from her older brother who had spent his high school years hacking the Internet. Aaron and the Chief explained what they were looking for, warning her of the extreme need for caution.

"Not a problem, Chief," she said confidently. "My brother taught me everything he knew, and he never got caught."

"What's he doing now?" Aaron asked curiously.

She grinned. "He advises corporations on computer security."

Within a few days Croft had found evidence of an attempt on the database of the local power company. "Chief, I'm thinking I should be looking in a wider area than just locally," she commented. "Maybe even try to work with the El Paso police. These guys must be trying to hit the entire area, not just where we are. Can you talk to the El Paso department about this?"

Russell thought. "I can, but we can't afford to let word get out about what CTU is doing. That's why I didn't call them in the first place. Let me talk to Mr. Pierce again and see what he recommends."

To Janine Croft, "Mr. Pierce" was assuming nearly mythical status. "Is it true what they say about him, sir? All the stuff about him being a secret agent and saving the President?"

Russell laughed. "Not quite. He was with the Secret Service, and his job was protecting the President and other folks in the government. He saved his wife and also the Russian president from terrorist attacks, back when she was the First Lady. And he had something to do with getting President Logan arrested, though I've never found out exactly what."

"Wow. And he came back here?" Janine's disbelief was patent. "When he could have stayed in Washington?"

"Yes, he came back here. He wanted to stay near his family, and I think he and his wife have had enough of Washington."

* * *

Another idea had occurred to Aaron: assuming Jorge was affiliated with a larger gang operating in the area, his associates would need a way to conceal their earnings. Surely their attempts at money laundering would leave evidence. Wondering who to ask for advice on this issue, he thought of Jeff Rosman, his future brother-in-law. _And here I thought I'd be without any resources in Ambler Grove,_ he thought amused. A few days later he took advantage of the family Sunday lunch and took the accountant aside to explain.

"I can't give you all the details, but I think this ties in with whoever shot Tim Peake. If somebody was making money off of drugs and needed to hide it, and they had computer skills, could they hide the dates and amounts of their transactions?"

"It might be more direct than that," Jeff responded. "Recently some international banks were found guilty of processing funds for drug cartels. There are regulations in place to prevent that sort of thing, but it still happens. Basically the cartels open accounts and use them to fund legitimate businesses. They've also used moneychangers to help funnel their money across the border. Some of these cartels have moved tens of millions of dollars into the U.S."

"This group isn't that big. Can you think of any local banks who'd be willing to do this?"

Jeff named a Mexican bank based in Ciudad Juarez. "They have a few branches in this part of Texas. Mostly in El Paso. Word is they made some bad real estate investments and they're a little shaky. You might start with them. And check out the moneychanging firms in El Paso; depending on how small this gang is, they might prefer to work with moneychangers rather than a bank."

Aaron recounted this conversation the next day to Chief Russell, who had asked him for a meeting. "I think it's time to call CTU again," he finished.

"I was going to ask you to do that. Officer Croft has found evidence that somebody's been hacking into the power company. She wanted to talk to the El Paso police to see if they've had any problems with hackers and computer security, but I told her I'd have to run it past you first."

"I've got a secure phone and computer line at my house. Come over tomorrow first thing and we'll have a talk with Gary Irvin."

Next morning Russell blinked as he took in the setup in Aaron's office. "Who do you have to know to get this stuff?" he asked, only partly joking.

Aaron smiled. "My CTU connection helped. And I do stay in touch with the Secret Service from time to time. It's turned out to be even more useful than I was hoping for." He dialed CTU-Washington and after a brief wait, they were connected with Agent Irvin.

Aaron quickly explained the presence of Chief Russell and his request to contact the El Paso police, then described his theory about tracking the gang's finances. Irvin agreed that this made sense. "I can have my people check the bank's records to start with. They'll work with the Ciudad Juarez police. As for the moneychanging angle…" his voice trailed off. "Those businesses are really too small for us. They'll need to be approached individually, and I can't spare any more people right now to explore that. I suppose I could talk to the FBI."

"Uh, Agent Irvin? I know the chief in El Paso pretty well and I have some contacts back in Austin, where I used to work. I'm sure the Austin Fraud Squad would be willing to help. I mean, Agent Zuniga said you wanted this kept as quiet as possible." Russell looked hopeful.

Irvin chuckled. "You want to play this under the radar? It's true if the FBI gets involved it's going to get exponentially harder to keep word from getting out to the gangs that we're on to them. Tell you what. Talk to your friends in the fraud squad and put together a cover story the El Paso cops can use for checking the local money changing operations. And as long as you're doing that, go ahead and talk to El Paso about the hacking – but start with just the chief, and make sure you impress on him that people's lives depend on him not spreading this around. I need to hear from you as often as you can manage, at least a couple of times a week."

"Yes, sir, we'll stay in touch." Aaron ended the call and turned to Russell, who was looking stunned and excited in equal parts.

"This is the biggest thing I've ever worked on. Unbelievable!"

"It _is_ pretty amazing," Aaron agreed. "But you know, what he said is right. We don't want anybody else getting killed or hurt."

Russell sobered immediately. "No, you're right about that. Maybe I should make those calls from here since it's more secure." Aaron waved him to the phone and, hearing a knock, answered it to see Nathan standing at the office door.

"Everything okay, Dad?" Nathan looked slightly surprised to see Chief Russell.

"Fine. I just wanted to run some ideas past the chief about Tim Peake's shooting," Aaron answered hastily.

His son raised an eyebrow. "Does Em know about this?"

"She knows I'm working with Chief Russell. It's starting to look as though Jorge Herrera is a piece of a bigger puzzle. That's really all I can say right now. I'll bring her up to date when she gets back from her tour."

Nathan grinned. "Well, you better."

"The best piece of advice I can give you before you get married is always tell your wife everything. It works for me. And speaking of marriage, what did the contractor have to say about the Condo?"

Nathan pointed to an area west of the ranch house where a new concrete slab lay curing in the sun. "The foundation looks good, they're going to start excavating for the septic tank today." Work was proceeding on a new, smaller home for Nathan and Lupe located near the main house. Ultimately, as their family grew and Martha and Aaron aged, it had been agreed that they would switch homes. Nathan had dubbed the new building "the Condo," and the name had stuck.

Chief Russell emerged from Aaron's office. "Got a few things to tell you, Mr. Pierce," he began, and then broke off with an apologetic look at Nathan, who responded: "It's okay, go back to your conference. I'll get back to the contractor."

"Does he know about what's going on?" the chief asked, shutting the door.

"I had to tell him a little. If it weren't for him we wouldn't know about what's going on, after all. But my son is very levelheaded and he knows this is all confidential. I haven't told him about the terrorist aspect."

"Great. Well, I got hold of a friend of mine named Marton. He's still on the fraud squad in Austin. He was very interested to hear about this and he gave me some good ideas to hand on to El Paso…"


End file.
